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Out on it! no foolish pining

For the sky

Dims thine eye,

A wildness rushing suddenly,

A knowing some ill shape is nigh, A wish for death, a fear to die,

Or for the stars so calmly shin. Is not this vengeance, Rosaline? 20

ing;

Like thee let this soul of mine

A loneliness that is not lone,
A love quite withered up and gone,

Take hue from that wherefor I A strong soul ousted from its

throne,

long, Self-stayed and high, serene and What wouldst thou further, Rosa

strong,

Not satisfied with hoping - but divine.

Violet! dear violet!

Thy blue eyes are only wet With joy and love of Him who sent thee,

And for the fulfilling sense
Of that glad obedience
Which made thee all that Nature
meant thee!

ROSALINE

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THOU look'dst on me all yester- And, in the middle of the night,

night,

Thine eyes were blue, thy hair was

bright

Thou standest moveless and upright,

Gazing upon me, Rosaline!

As when we murmured our troth- There is no sorrow in thine eyes,

plight

Beneath the thick stars, Rosaline! Thy hair was braided on thy head, As on the day we two were wed, Mine eyes scarce knew if thou wert dead,

But

evermore that meek sur-
prise,

O God! thy gentle spirit tries
To deem me guiltless, Rosaline! 40

Above thy grave the robin sings,

But my shrunk heart knew, Rosa- And swarms of bright and happy

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But dared not leave thee, Rosa- Woe's me! I know that love so

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The sound like sunshine glad had Thou liest low and silent,

streamed

Thy heart is cold and still,

Through that dark stillness, Rosa- Thine eyes are shut forever,

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WORN and footsore was the Pro- Thirsting to be more than mortal,

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'God! I thank thee,' said the Pro- A part of my existence

phet;

'Hard of heart and blind was I,

Looking to the holy mountain

For the gift of prophecy.

Within your heart doth lie!

O stars, ye saw our meeting, Two beings and one soul,

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To show us what a woman true Common and beautiful as light may be: and air,

They have not taken sympathy Would be as fruitless as a stream which still

from thee,

Nor made thee any other than Slips through the wheel of some

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Nor hath thy knowledge of ad- Whose limbs take root and spread versity forth constantly; Robbed thee of any faith in happi- That love for one, from which there doth not spring

ness,

But rather cleared thine inner eyes Wide love for all, is but a worth

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IV

Thy large heart down to earth shook doubtfully,

'FOR this true nobleness I seek in Thrilled by the inward lightning

of its might,

vain, In woman and in man I find it Serene and pure, like gushing joy

not;

I almost weary of my earthly lot, My life-springs are dried up with burning pain.'

Thou find'st it not? I pray thee look again,

Look inward through the depths of thine own soul.

How is it with thee? Art thou

sound and whole?

Doth narrow search show thee no earthly stain ?

BE NOBLE! and the nobleness that lies

In other men, sleeping, but never dead,

Will rise in majesty to meet thine own;

Then wilt thou see it gleam in

many eyes,

Then will pure light around thy path be shed,

And thou wilt nevermore be sad and lone.

V

TO THE SPIRIT OF KEATS

GREAT Soul, thou sittest with me in my room,

Uplifting me with thy vast, quiet eyes,

On whose full orbs, with kindly

lustre, lies

The twilight warmth of ruddy ember-gloom :

Thy clear, strong tones will oft bring sudden bloom

of light,

Shall track the eternal chords of Destiny,

After the moon-led pulse of ocean stops.

VI

GREAT Truths are portions of the soul of man;

Great souls are portions of Eternity;

Each drop of blood that e'er through true heart ran

With lofty message, ran for thee and me;

For God's law, since the starry

song began,

Hath been, and still forevermore must be,

That every deed which shall outlast Time's span

Must spur the soul to be erect and free;

Slave is no word of deathless lin

eage sprung;

Too many noble souls have thought and died,

Too many mighty poets lived and sung,

And our good Saxon, from lips purified

With martyr-fire, throughout the world hath rung

Too long to have God's holy cause denied.

VII

Of hope secure, to him who lonely I ASK not for those thoughts, that

cries,

sudden leap

Wrestling with the young poet's From being's sea, like the isle

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