She mental breadth, nor fail in child. ward care,

Nor lose the childlike in the larger mind;

Till at the last she set herself to man, Like perfect music unto noble words: And so these twain, upon the skirts of Time.

Sit side by side, full-summed in all their powers,

Dispensing harvest, sowing the To-be, Self-reverent each and reverencing each,

Distinct in individualities,

But like each other even as those who love.

[From The Princess.]
CRADLE SONG.

SWEET and low, sweet and low,
Wind of the western sea,
Low, low, breathe and blow,

Wind of the western sea!
Over the rolling waters go,
Come from the dying moon, and
blow,

Blow him again to me: While my little one, while my pretty one sleeps.

Sleep and rest, sleep and rest,

Father will come to thee soon: Rest, rest, on mother's breast,

Father will come to thee soon; Father will come to his babe in the

man:

He gain in sweetness and in moral

height,

But

Nor lose the wrestling thews that throw the world;

Ask me

part

Of sorrow: for when time was ripe.

The still affection of the heart Became an outward breathing type, That into stillness passed again,

And left a want unknown before: Although the loss that brought us pain,

That loss but made us love the more,

With farther lookings on. The kiss,

The woven arms, seem but to be Weak symbols of the settled bliss,

The comfort, I have found in thee: But that God bless thee, dear - who wrought

Two spirits to one equal mindWith blessings beyond hope or thought,

With blessings which no words can find.

Arise, and let us wander forth,

To yon old mill across the wolds; For look, the sunset, south and north, Winds all the vale in rosy folds, And fires your narrow casement glass,

Touching the sullen pool below: On the chalk-hill the bearded grass Is dry and dewless, let us go.

[From The Miller's Daughter.]
WHAT I WOULD BE.

Ir is the miller's daughter,

And she is grown so dear, so dear, That I would be the jewel

That trembles at her ear: For hid in ringlets day and night, I'd touch her neck so warm and white.

And I would be the girdle

About her dainty, dainty waist, And her heart would beat against me, In sorrow and in rest:

And I should know if it beat right, I'd clasp it round so close and tight.