CHILDREN GATHERING PALMS From A VISION OF POETS ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING UT hark! a distant sound that grows, BA heaving, sinking of the boughs, A rustling murmur, not of those, A breezy noise which is not breeze! Fair little children, morning-bright,— Some plucked the palm-boughs within reach, A rain of dew, till, wetted so, The child that held the branch let go, Of faster drippings, then I knew The children laughed; but the laugh flew A frightened song-bird; and a child Who seemed the chief, said, very mild, "Hush! keep this morning undefiled." His eyes rebuked them from calm spheres ; In waiting for more holy years. I called the child to me, and said, "What are your palms for?"-"To be spread," He answered, "on a poet dead. "The poet died last month, and now The world, which had been somewhat slow In honouring his living brow, "Commands the palms; they must be strown On his new marble very soon, THE ROMANCE OF THE SWAN'S NEST ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING ITTLE Ellie sits alone 'Mid the beeches of a meadow, She has thrown her bonnet by; Little Ellie sits alone, And the smile she softly useth Fills the silence like a speech; While she thinks what shall be done, Little Ellie in her smile Chooseth, "I will have a lover, He shall love me without guile; And to him I will discover The swan's nest among the reeds. "And the steed it shall be red-roan, And the lover shall be noble, With an eye that takes the breath, Shall strike ladies into trouble, As his sword strikes men to death. "And the steed it shall be shod All in silver, housed in azure, And the mane shall swim the wind; "He will kiss me on the mouth Then, and lead me as a lover, Through the crowds that praise his deeds; And, when soul-tied by one troth, Unto him I will discover That swan's nest among the reeds." Little Ellie, with her smile Not yet ended, rose up gayly, Tied the bonnet, donn'd the shoe, Just to see, as she did daily, What more eggs were with the two. Pushing through the elm-tree copse, Winding by the stream, light-hearted, Where the osier pathway leads, Past the boughs, she stoops and stops: Lo! the wild swan had deserted, And a rat had gnawed the reeds. Ellie went home sad and slow. If she found the lover ever, With his red-roan steed of steeds, Sooth I know not! but I know She could never show him never, That swan's nest among the reeds. |