430 DREAM-PEDLARY If there were dreams to sell, Some cost a passing bell; Some a light sigh, That shakes from Life's fresh crown Only a rose-leaf down. If there were dreams to sell, Merry and sad to tell, And the crier rang the bell, THE evening sun was sinking down On low green hills and clustered trees; It was a scene as fair and lone As ever felt the soothing breeze That cools the grass when day is gone, 432 433 And makes the soft white clouds sail on Like spirits of ethereal dew. Which all the morn had hovered o'er EMILY BRONTË TO THE EVENING STAR TO DAISIES, NOT TO SHUT SO SOON SHUT not so soon; the dull-eyed night Hath not as yet begun To make a seisure on the light, Or to seale up the Sun. No Marigolds yet closed are; No shadowes great appeare: Nor doth the early Shepheard's Starre 434 435 Stay but till my Julia close Her life-begetting eye; And let the whole world then dispose It selfe to live or dye. ROBERT HERRICK OF THE GOING DOWN OF THE SUN WHAT, hast thou run thy Race? Art going down? Yea wrap thy heads with Clouds, and hide thy face, Tell's, who hath thee offended? Turn again: Alas! too late-Entreaties are in vain! JOHN BUNYAN VIRTUE SWEET day, so cool, so calm, so bright Sweet rose, whose hue angry and brave And thou must die. Sweet spring, full of sweet days and roses, And all must die. Only a sweet and vertuous soul, Like seasond timber, never gives; |