Page:Ambarvalia - Clough (1849).djvu/83

 I ask no glory's vagrant blaze, To dance around my shining head: Be peace and hope my crown instead, With love, God willing, for my praise!

Child! what light is in those eyes? Like islands bright in sunset skies, Ablaze with glory overweening Yet cold—alive, yet dead of meaning! Two goats upon the rocks at play Not wilder as they climb and leap; Yet torpid in their sense are they As awful mountain lakes that sleep Far deepening downward from the day, To caves a thousand fathoms deep!

Child of love, what hath become Of thy sweet tongue?—would it were dumb! —That now doth boisterously climb Along the fragmentary rhyme, Years back within thine infant ear Lodged lightly—thus to re-appear,