O rhapsody of the wraith of red,
O blush but yet in prophecy,
O sun-hint that hath overspread
Sky, marsh, my soul, and yonder sail.




Thou and I.



So one in heart and thought, I trow,
That thou might'st press the strings and I might draw the bow
And both would meet in music sweet,
Thou and I, I trow.

____
1881.




The Hard Times in Elfland.

A Story of Christmas Eve.



Strange that the termagant winds should scold