Sound, stormy Autumn! Brazen bell,

Into the morning send your knell!

Mourn, Thames! keep firm your chant of sorrow;

Mourn, men! for a fellow-man dies to-morrow.

Alas! none mourn; none care;—the debt

Of pity the whole wide world forget!

(Morning)

’Tis dawn, — ’tis Day! In floods of light

He drives back the dark and shrinking night.

The clouds? — they’re lost. The rains — they’re fled:

And the streets are alive with a busy tread;

And thousands are thronging, with gossip gay,

To see how a felon will die to-day.

The thief is abroad in his last new dress,

Earning his bread in the thickest press;

The idler is there, and the painter fine,

Studying a look for his next design;

The fighter, the brawler, the drover strong;

And all curse that the felon should stay so long.

At last, — he comes! with a heavy tread,

He mounts — he reels — he drops — he’s dead!

The show is over! — the crowd depart,

Each with a laugh and a merry heart.

Hark! — merrily now the bells are ringing;

The Thames on his careless way is springing;

The bird on the chimney top is singing:

Now, who will say

That Earth is not gay,

Or that Heaven is not brighter than yesterday!

The Song of a Felon’s Wife

The brand is on thy brow,

A dark and guilty spot;

‘Tis ne’er to be erased!

‘Tis ne’er to be forgot!

The brand is on thy brow!

Yet I must shade the spot:

For who will love thee now,

If I love thee not?

Thy soul is dark, — is stained; —

From out the bright world thrown;

By God and man disdained,

But not by me, — thy own!

Oh! even the tiger slain

Hath one who ne’er doth flee,

Who soothes his dying pain!

— That one am I to thee!

The Old Witch in the Copse

I am a Witch, and a kind old Witch,

There’s many a one knows that —

Alone I live in my little dark house

With Pillycock, my cat.

A girl came running through the night,

When all the winds blew free: —

"O mother, change a young man’s heart

That will not look on me.

O mother, brew a magic mead

To stir his heart so cold."

"Just as you will, my dear," said I;

"And I thank you for your gold."

So here am I in the wattled copse

Where all the twigs are brown,

To find what I need to brew my mead

As the dark of night comes down.

Primroses in my old hands,

Sweet to smell and young,

And violets blue that spring in the grass

Wherever the larks have sung.

With celandines as heavenly crowns

Yellowy-gold and bright;

All of these, O all of these,

Shall bring her Love’s delight.

But orchids growing snakey green

Speckled dark with blood,

And fallen leaves that curled and shrank

And rotted in the mud,

With blistering nettles burning harsh

And blinding thorns above;

All of these, O all of these

Shall bring the pains of Love.

Shall bring the pains of Love, my Puss,

That cease not night or day,

The bitter rage, nought can assuage

Till it bleeds the heart away.

Pillycock mine, my hands are full

My pot is on the fire.

Purr, my pet, this fool shall get

Her fool’s desire.

A Sea-Shore Echo

I stand upon the wild sea-shore

I see the screaming eagle soar

I hear the hungry billows roar,

      And all around

The hollow answering caves out-pour

      Their stores of sound.

The wind, which moaneth on the waves,

Delights me, and the surge that raves,

Loud-talking of a thousand graves —

      A watery theme!

But oh! those voices from the caves

      Speak like a dream!

They seem long hoarded, — cavern-hung, —

First uttered ere the world was young,

Talking some strange eternal tongue

      Old as the skies!

Their words unto all earth are flung:

      Yet who replies?

Large answer when the thunders speak

Are blown from every bay and creek,

And when the fire-tongued tempests speak

      The bright seas cry,

And when the seas their answer seek

      The shores replay.

But Echo from the rock and stone

And seas earns back no second tone;

And Silence pale, who hears aloe

      Her voice divine,

Absorbs it, like the sponge that’s thrown

      On glorious wine!

— Nimph Echo, — elder than the world,

Who wast from out deep chaos hurl’d,

When beauty first her flag unfurl’d

      And the bright sun

Laugh’d on her, and the blue waves curl’d

      And