HAT awful pérspective! while from our sight WHAT With gradual stealth the lateral windows hide Whoe'er ye be, that thus, yourselves unseen, The notes luxuriate, every stone is kissed William Wordsworth. HEY dreamt not of a perishable home THEY Who thus could build. Be mine, in hours of fear Or grovelling thought, to seek a refuge here; Or through the aisles of Westminster to roam; I TRINITY COLLEGE. PAST beside the reverend walls In which of old I wore the gown; I roved at random through the town, And saw the tumult of the halls; And heard once more in college fanes And caught once more the distant shout, The same gray flats again, and felt The same, but not the same; and last Up that long walk of limes I past To see the rooms in which he dwelt. Another name was on the door: I lingered; all within was noise Of songs, and clapping hands, and boys That crashed the glass and beat the floor; Where once we held debate, a band Of youthful friends, on mind and art And labor, and the changing mart, And all the framework of the land; I When one would aim an arrow fair, But send it slackly from the string; And one would pierce an outer ring, And one an inner, here and there; And last the master-bowman, he Would cleave the mark. A willing ear From point to point with power and grace, To those conclusions when we saw And seem to lift the form, and glow Alfred Tennyson. ON REVISITING TRINITY COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE. HAVE a debt of my heart's own to thee, School of my soul! old lime and cloister shade! Which I, strange suitor, should lament to see Fully acquitted and exactly paid. The first ripe taste of manhood's best delights, Knowledge imbibed, while mind and heart agree, In sweet belated talk on winter nights, With friends whom growing time keeps dear to me;Such things I owe thee, and not only these: I owe thee the far-beaconing memories Of the young dead, who, having crossed the tide Of Life where it was narrow, deep, and clear, Now cast their brightness from the farther side On the dark-flowing hours I breast in fear. Lord Houghton. THE BACKS. ROPPING down the river, DROPPI Down the glancing river, Underneath the bridges, Carvéd stone and oaken, Crowned with sphere and pillar, Sloping swards of garden, Dropping down the river, Through the hidden outlet Not proof against the stars. Drinking ruby claret From the silvered "Pewter," Spoil of ancient battle Ah! the balmy fragrance James Payn |