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PAPERS ON LITERATURE AND ART.
| Scattering unbeholden |
| Its aerial hue |
| Among the flowers and grass which screen it from the view. |
| Like a rose embowered |
| In its own green leaves, |
| By warm winds deflowered, |
| Till the scent it gives |
| Makes faint with too much sweet, those heavy-winged thieves. |
| Sound of vernal showers |
| On the twinkling grass, |
| Rain-awakened flowers, |
| All that ever was |
| Joyous, and clear, and fresh, thy music doth surpass. |
| Teach us, sprite or bird, |
| What sweet thoughts are thine: |
| I have never heard |
| Praise of love or wine |
| That panted forth a flood of rapture so divine. |
| Chorus hymeneal, |
| Or triumphant chaunt, |
| Matched with thine would be all |
| But an empty vaunt— |
| A thing wherein we feel there is some hidden want. |
| What objects are the fountains |
| Of thy happy strain? |
| What fields, or waves, or mountains? |
| What shapes of sky or plain? |
| What love of thine own kind? what ignorance of pain? |
| With thy clear keen joyance |
| Languor cannot be; |
| Shadow of annoyance |
| Never came near thee: |
| Thou lovest; but ne’er knew love’s sad satiety.” |
I do not like to omit a word of it: but it is taking too much room. Should we not say from the samples before us that Shel-
