Page:The Poets and Poetry of the West.djvu/291

 1840-50.] FORTUNATUS COSBY. 275 And he would call it back to life, To mingle in the mimic strife ! And ever, to each fitful lay, His frame in restless motion wheels, As though he would indeed essay To act the ecstacy he feels — As though his very feet kept time To that inimitable chime ! And ever, as the rising moon Climbs with full orb the trees above, He sings his most enchanting tune, While echo wakes through all the grove ; His descant soothes, in care's despite, The weary watches of the night ; The sleeper from his couch starts up, •To listen to that lay forlorn ; And he who quaffs the midnight cup Looks out to see the purple morn ! Oh, ever in the merry Spring, Sweet mimic, let me hear thee sing. SONG. All around and all above thee. In the hush'd and charmed air. All things woo thee, all things love thee. Maiden fair ! Gentlest zephyrs, perfume breathing, "Waft to thee their tribute sweet, And for thee the Spring is weaving Garlands meet. In their cavern'd, cool recesses, Songs for thee the fountains frame ; Whatsoe'er the wave caresses Lisps thy name. Greener verdure, brighter blossom, Wheresoe'er thy footsteps stray. O'er the earth's enamored bosom Live alway. Wheresoe'er thy presence lingers, Wheresoe'er its brightness beams. Fancy weaves, with cunning fingers, Sweetest dreams. And the heart forgets thee never. Thy young beauty's one dehght, There it dwells, and dwells forever, Ever bright. FIRESIDE FANCIES. By the dim and fitful fire-light Musing all alone, Memories of old companions Dead, or strangers grown ; — Books that we had read together, Rambles in sweet summer weather, Thoughts released from earthly tether — Fancy made my own. In my cushioned arm-chair sitting Far into the night, Sleep, with leaden wing extinguished All the flickering light ; But, the thoughts that soothed me waking, Care, and grief, and pain forsaking, Still the self-same path were taking — Pilgrims, still in sight. Indistinct and shadowy phantoms Of the sacred dead, Absent faces bending fondly O'er my drooping head. In my dreams were woven quaintly, Dim at first, but calm and saintly. As the stars that glimmer faintly From their misty bed. Presently a lustrous brightness Eye could scarce behold. Gave to my enchanted vision, Looks no longer cold,