Then Stirs The Feeling Infinite, So Felt

Tis Not On Youth's Smooth Cheek The Blush Alone, Which Fades So Fast, But The Tender Bloom Of Heart Is Gone, Ere Youth Itself Be Past.

Dim With The Mist Of Years, Gray Flits The Shade Of Power.

The Cold, The Changed, Perchance The Dead, Anew, The Mourn'd, The Loved, The Lost,-too Many, Yet How Few!

A Little Still She Strove, And Much Repented, And Whispering “i Will Ne'er Consent”—consented.

The Sky Is Changed,-and Such A Change! O Night And Storm And Darkness! Ye Are Wondrous Strong, Yet Lovely In Your Strength, As Is The Light Of A Dark Eye In Woman! Far Along, From Peak To Peak, The Rattling Crags Among, Leaps The Live Thunder.