Still persevere; the giddiest breeze that blows
For thee may blow with fame and fortune rife.
Be prosperous; and what reck if it arose
Out of some pebble with the stream at strife,
Or that the light wind dallied with the boughs:
Thou art successful--such is human life.
DOUBLEDAY.
* * * * *
MARIANA.
Mariana in the moated grange.--_Measure for Measure_.
[Illustration]
With blackest moss the flower-plots
Were thickly crusted, one and all;
The rusted nails fell from the knots
That held the peach to the garden wall.
The broken sheds look'd sad and strange--
Uplifted was the clinking latch,
Weeded and worn the ancient thatch,
Upon the lonely moated grange.
She only said, "My life is dreary--
He cometh not," she said;
She said, "I am aweary, weary,
I would that I were dead!"
Her tears fell with the dews at even--
Her tears fell ere the dews were dried;
She could not look on the sweet heaven,
Either at morn or eventide.
After the flitting of the bats,
When thickest dark did trance the sky,
She drew her casement-curtain by,
And glanced athwart the glooming flats.
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