Page:The poems of Emma Lazarus volume 1.djvu/156

142 Fantastic, brief as they, and, like them, spun Of gilded nothingness! All things are well with her. T is good to be alive, to see the light That plays upon the grass, to feel (and sigh With perfect pleasure) the mild breezes stir Among the garden roses, red and white, With whiffs of fragrancy. There is no troublous thought, No painful memory, no grave regret, To mar the sweet suggestions of the hour : The soul, at peace, reflects the peace without, Forgetting grief as sunset skies forget The morning s transient shower.

, beauty, stillness : not a waif of cloud From gray-blue east sheer to the yellow west— No film of mist the utmost slopes to shroud. The earth lies grave, by quiet airs caressed, And shepherdeth her shadows, but each stream, Free to the sky, is by that glow possessed,