Poems in Two Volumes, vol 1 | Page 6

and lies
Alas! the fowls of Heaven have wings,?And blasts of Heaven will aid their flight;?They mount, how short a voyage brings?The Wanderers back to their delight!?Chains tie us down by land and sea;?And wishes, vain as mine, may be?All that is left to comfort thee.
Perhaps some dungeon hears thee groan, 50 Maim'd, mangled by inhuman men;?Or thou upon a Desart thrown?Inheritest the Lion's Den;?Or hast been summoned to the Deep,?Thou, Thou and all thy mates, to keep?An incommunicable sleep.
I look for Ghosts; but none will force?Their way to me; 'tis falsely said?That there was ever intercourse?Betwixt the living and the dead; 60 For, surely, then I should have sight?Of Him I wait for day and night,?With love and longings infinite.
My apprehensions come in crowds;?I dread the rustling of the grass;?The very shadows of the clouds?Have power to shake me as they pass:?I question things, and do not find?One that will answer to my mind;?And all the world appears unkind. 70
Beyond participation lie?My troubles, and beyond relief:?If any chance to heave a sigh?They pity me, and not my grief.?Then come to me, my Son, or send?Some tidings that my woes may end;?I have no other earthly friend.
THE KITTEN AND THE FALLING LEAVES.

That way look, my Infant, lo!?What a pretty baby show!?See the Kitten on the Wall,?Sporting with the leaves that fall,?Wither'd leaves, one, two, and three,?From the lofty Elder-tree!?Through the calm and frosty air?Of this morning bright and fair,?Eddying round and round they sink?Softly, slowly: one might think, 10 From the motions that are made,?Every little leaf convey'd?Sylph or Faery hither tending,?To this lower world descending,?Each invisible and mute,?In his wavering parachute.?--But the Kitten, how she starts,?Crouches, stretches, paws, and darts;?First at one and then it's fellow?Just as light and just as yellow; 20 There are many now--now one--?Now they stop; and there are none--?What intenseness of desire?In her upward eye of fire!?With a tiger-leap half way?Now she meets the coming prey,?Lets it go as fast, and then?Has it in her power again:?Now she works with three or four,?Like an Indian Conjuror; 30 Quick as he in feats of art,?Far beyond in joy of heart.?Were her antics play'd in the eye?Of a thousand Standers-by,?Clapping hands with shout and stare,?What would little Tabby care?For the plaudits of the Crowd??Over happy to be proud,?Over wealthy in the treasure?Of her own exceeding pleasure! 40
'Tis a pretty Baby-treat;?Nor, I deem, for me unmeet:?Here, for neither Babe or me,?Other Play-mate can I see.?Of the countless living things,?That with stir of feet and wings,?(In the sun or under shade?Upon bough or grassy blade)?And with busy revellings,?Chirp and song, and murmurings, 50 Made this Orchard's narrow space,?And this Vale so blithe a place;?Multitudes are swept away?Never more to breathe the day:?Some are sleeping; some in Bands?Travell'd into distant Lands;?Others slunk to moor and wood,?Far from human neighbourhood,?And, among the Kinds that keep?With us closer fellowship, 60 With us openly abide,?All have laid their mirth aside,?--Where is he that giddy Sprite,?Blue-cap, with his colours bright,?Who was blest as bird could be,?Feeding in the apple-tree,?Made such wanton spoil and rout,?Turning blossoms inside out,?Hung with head towards the ground,?Flutter'd, perch'd; into a round 70 Bound himself, and then unbound;?Lithest, gaudiest Harlequin,?Prettiest Tumbler ever seen,?Light of heart, and light of limb,?What is now become of Him??Lambs, that through the mountains went?Frisking, bleating merriment,?When the year was in it's prime,?They are sober'd by this time.?If you look to vale or hill, 80 If you listen, all is still,?Save a little neighbouring Rill;?That from out the rocky ground?Strikes a solitary sound.?Vainly glitters hill and plain,?And the air is calm in vain;?Vainly Morning spreads the lure?Of a sky serene and pure;?Creature none can she decoy?Into open sign of joy: 90 Is it that they have a fear?Of the dreary season near??Or that other pleasures be?Sweeter even than gaiety?
Yet, whate'er enjoyments dwell?In the impenetrable cell?Of the silent heart which Nature?Furnishes to every Creature,?Whatsoe'er we feel and know?Too sedate for outward show, 100 Such a light of gladness breaks,?Pretty Kitten! from thy freaks,?Spreads with such a living grace?O'er my little Laura's face;?Yes, the sight so stirs and charms?Thee, Baby, laughing in my arms,?That almost I could repine?That your transports are not mine,?That I do not wholly fare?Even as ye do, thoughtless Pair! 110 And I will have my careless season?Spite of melancholy reason,?Will walk through life in such a way?That, when time brings on decay,?Now and then I may possess?Hours of perfect gladsomeness.?--Pleas'd by any random toy;?By a Kitten's busy joy,?Or an infant's laughing eye?Sharing in the extacy; 120 I would fare like that or this,?Find my wisdom in my bliss;?Keep the sprightly soul awake,?And have faculties to take?Even from things by sorrow wrought?Matter for a jocund thought;?Spite of care, and spite of grief,?To gambol with Life's falling Leaf.
THE SEVEN SISTERS,?OR THE SOLITUDE OF BINNORIE.

Seven Daughters had