POE TRY.
ROMANCE.
MORN, and a world of wonder ! 0 the time
Of winds like trumpet-calls, and seas that gleam,
And sounding sunlit roads that wind and climb Far over hills of dream,—
Travelled by knight and pedlar, prince and priest,— Past many an echoing port and ringing bridge To some black fortress like a couchant beast Crouched on a mountain ridge.
Fords perilous, and haunted reach and pool, Far-shining spires under the blaze of noon, And twilight shrines of Visions wonderful,— Dusk, and an angry moon.
Glimmer of ambush,—dungeons, strange escapes, Ships swinging on the swell of darkling tides, And faerie forests full of eerie shapes, Long, flickering, grass-grown rides.
Dark crooked streets with lights like peering eyes, Plotters in half-lit halls of palaces,— Orchards and gardens fall of lurking spies And whispering passages.
Travail and bondage, battle-flags unfurled, Earth at the prime, and God earth's wrongs above, Honour and hope, youth and the beckoning world, Peril, and war, and love.
C. Fox SMITH.
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