Page:Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1900.djvu/747

 FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS

1793-1835

622. Dirge

Calm on the bosom of thy God, Fair spirit, rest thee now! E'en while with ours thy footsteps trod, His seal was on thy brow.

Dust, to its narrow house beneath! Soul, to its place on high! They that have seen thy look in death No more may fear to die.

JOHN KEATS

1795-1821

623. Song of the Indian Maid

FROM 'ENDYMION'

O Sorrow! Why dost borrow The natural hue of health, from vermeil lips?— To give maiden blushes To the white rose bushes? Or is it thy dewy hand the daisy tips?

O Sorrow! Why dost borrow The lustrous passion from a falcon-eye?— To give the glow-worm light? Or, on a moonless night, To tinge, on siren shores, the salt sea-spry?

623. sea-spry] sea-spray.