LINES.

WOULD that some impassioned language

In the rich sonorous tongue

In which Dante and Ariosto

Their melodious measures sung,

Could convey the nameless longing

With a shape so undefined,

Wafted like a cloud at sunset

O'er the mirror of my mind;

Could convey the warmth and coloring

Of this wish so hazed in clouds;

Could but paint the dreamy darkness

Which its fragile outline shrouds;

Could but tell the gentle rapture

Of the mind's inquiring gaze

In the mellow mystic sunset

With its vapory, golden haze;

Could but tell the joy, yet sadness,

In this aimless wistfulness.

How can such a world of sorrow

Give me such a wealth of bliss!

Shall I seek in realms of reason

For the answer to my prayer?

No, for 'neath the lens of reason

Poets' visions fade in air.

May be in a passing fancy,

In the glances of an eye,

All these sweet, these blissful longings,

All these golden visions lie.

Z.