For now to my raised mind On wings of winds comes wild-eyed Fantasy, And her rude visions give severe delight.
O winged bark! how swift along the night Pass'd thy proud keel! nor shall I let go by Lightly of that drear hour the memory, When wet and chilly on thy deck I stood, Unbonneted, and gazed upon the flood, Even till it seem'd a pleasant thing to die,-- To be resolv'd into th' elemental wave, Or take my portion with the winds that rave.
XI.
We were two pretty babes, the youngest she, The youngest, and the loveliest far, I ween, And INNOCENCE her name.

The time has been, We two did love each other's company: Time was, we two had wept to have been apart.
But when by show of seeming good beguiled, I left the garb and manners of a child, And my first love for man's society, Defiling with the world my virgin heart-- My loved companion dropp'd a tear, and fled, And hid in deepest shades her awful head.
Beloved, who shall tell me where thou art-- In what delicious Eden to be found-- That I may seek thee the wide world around?
BLANK VERSE * * * * * CHILDHOOD.
In my poor mind it is most sweet to muse Upon the days gone by; to act in thought Past seasons o'er, and be again a child; To sit in fancy on the turf-clad slope, Down which the child would roll; to pluck gay flowers, Make posies in the sun, which the child's hand (Childhood offended soon, soon reconciled,) Would throw away, and straight take up again, Then fling them to the winds, and o'er the lawn Bound with so playful and so light a foot, That the press'd daisy scarce declined her head.
* * * * * THE GRANDAME.
On the green hill-top, Hard by the house of prayer, a modest roof, And not distinguish'd from its neighbor-barn, Save by a slender-tapering length of spire, The Grandame sleeps.

A plain stone barely tells The name and date to the chance passenger.
For lowly born was she, and long had eat, Well-earn'd, the bread of service:--hers was else A mountain spirit, one that entertain'd Scorn of base action, deed dishonorable, Or aught unseemly.

I remember well Her reverend image; I remember, too, With what a zeal she served her master's house; And how the prattling tongue of garrulous age Delighted to recount the oft-told tale Or anecdote domestic.

Wise she was, And wondrous skill'd in genealogies, And could in apt and voluble terms discourse Of births, of titles, and alliances; Of marriages, and intermarriages; Relationship remote, or near of kin; Of friends offended, family disgraced-- Maiden high-born, but wayward, disobeying Parental strict injunction, and regardless Of unmix'd blood, and ancestry remote, Stooping to wed with one of low degree.
But these are not thy praises; and I wrong Thy honor'd memory, recording chiefly Things light or trivial.