6 WILD SCENES AND SONG-BIKDS. 



no Freedom but wheels and rushes tameless through the un- 

 bounded fields of air no ecstasy of Faith, but like 



" The lark whose notes do beat 

 The vanity heaven, so high above our heads,' 



" singeth at Heaven's gate I" no spiritual Warning but 

 comes and goes, inexplicably, quick as the shadow of some 

 "full- winged bird," glides across our path upon a summer's 

 day no Visitation but comes like a fierce swooper of the 

 sky, the moan of arrowy wings and stroke at once no 

 Shudder from the charnel but the frowsy flap of owlet and 

 of bat, " chasing the lagging night-shades," or the cloud- 

 dropped croak of " sad presaging Eaven" going by must 

 bring it no dash of " mirthful Phantasie" but that sparkles 

 from the jewelled wings of restless Hummers, light it amidst 

 the flowers. 



All the mysteries of hope, of joy, of hate, of love, are 

 winged, and to the tameless pulsing of this winnowed air our 

 life must beat ! 



Winging and singing through the spring-time with the 

 birds our Childhood goes and ever, while that 



" Infantine 



Familiar clasp of things divine," 



lingers in freshness with the years keeping the wise youth 

 of our hearts unhackneyed shall living be a joyful thing, 

 and the cycling moons wheel blithely with us ! 



Ah, those times! with the yellow-haired, blue-eyed, bloom- 

 ing maidens, in their white pinafores and pantalettes ! 



" Lightsome, then, as April shadows, 

 With bees and merry birds at play, 

 Chasing sunlight o'er the meadows," 

 were we ! 



Bounding and carrolling through the flower-starred, odorous 

 grass scaring the fire-flies back to the moon, whence their 



