Page:Sarah Sheppard - L. E. L.pdf/53

 a sufficient study of the great characteristics of genius in their most lovely display. The lines on some of our poets are especially deserving of notice. The poem to Wordsworth is worthy even of his own calm, lofty and truthful philosophy. The stanzas to the memory of Mrs. Hemans are, in their high souled and noble thoughts, what only a poet could have addressed to another; ay, more, in their deep yet gentle and appreciating feelings, what only a woman could or would have expressed towards a sister spirit. How much, too, of the Poet's inner life is embodied in the stanzas on visiting Newstead Abbey. As these poems will verify many of the previous remarks, we give them each entire.

makes the Poet? Nothing but to feel More keenly than the common sense of feeling; To have the soul attuned to the appeal Of the dim music thro' all nature stealing.

Ah! Poetry is like love, its own avenger, Sweet thoughts, fine fancies by its footsteps roam; It wanders thro’ the world a lovely stranger, To find this weary world is not its home.

Cares, envyings, blame, disturb its bright dominion, Fretted, it labours of its own unrest; The wounded dove folds up its drooping pinion, And pines and fevers on its lonely nest.

Or rather say it is the falcon, scorning The shaft by which he met his mortal blow; Stately he rose to meet the golden morning, Ere noontide came, the gallant bird lay low.

Ah! who may know what gloomy guests unbidden, Await such spirits in their unstrung hours; Thoughts by the better nature vainly chidden, Forcing allegiance to the darker powers.