LAY OF THE EOSE. 257 



Dropp'd from her, fair and mute, 



Close to a poet's foot, 

 Who beheld them, smiling lowly, 

 As at something sad and holy ; 



Said, " Verily and thus, 



So chanceth e'er with us, 

 Poets, ringing sweetest snatches, 

 While deaf did men keep the watches 



" Saunting to come before 



Our own age evermore, 

 In a loneness, in a loneness, 

 And the nobler for that oneness 



" But if alone we be 



Where is our empiry ? 

 And if none can reach our stature 

 Who will mate our lofty nature ? 



" What bell will yield a tone 



Saving in the air alone ? 

 If no brazen clapper bringing, 

 Who can bear the chimed ringing 

 22* 



