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And vagrant melodies the winds which bore
Them earthward till they lit;
The fruitful wit
Cleaving, took root, and springing forth anew
Where'er they fell, behold,
A flower all gold,
And bravely furnish'd all abroad to fling
The winged shafts of truth, To throng with stately blooms the breathing spring
Of Hope and Youth.
So many minds did gird their orbs with beams,
Tho' one did fling the fire.
Of high desire.
Thus truth was multiplied on truth, the world
Like one great garden show'd,
Rare sunrise flow'd.
And Freedom reard in that august sunrise
Her beautiful bold brow,
Melted like snow.
There was no blood upon her maiden robes
Sunn'd by those orient skies;
Of her keen eyes
And in her raiment's hem was traced in flame
WISDOM, a name to shake All evil dreams of power
a sacred name. And when she spake,
Her words did gather thunder as they ran,
And as the lightning to the thunder Which follows it, riving the spirit of man,
Making earth wonder,
The flowers would faint at your cruel cheer.
In your eye there is death,
From the groves within
The wild-bird's din. In the heart of the garden the merry bird chants, It would fall to the ground if you came in. In the middle leaps a fountain
From the brain of the purple mountain
Which stands in the distance yonder: It springs on a level of bowery lawn, And the mountain draws it from Heaven above, And it sings a song of undying love; And yet, tho' its voice be so clear and full, You never would hear it; your ears are so dull; So keep where you are: you are foul with sin; It would shrink to the earth if you came in.
Slow saild the weary mariners and saw,
Whither away, whither away, whither away? fly no more.
blossoming shore ?
And the spangle dances in bight and bay,
up the ridged sea. Who can light on as happy a shore All the world o'er, all the world o'er ? Whither away ? listen and stay : mariner, mariner, fly no
THE DESERTED HOUSE.
Life and Thought have gone away
Side by side,
Leaving door and windows wide:
All within is dark as night:
Close the door, the shutters close,
Or thro' the windows we shall see
The nakedness and vacancy
Come away: no more of mirth
Is here or merry-making sound.
And shall fall again to ground.
Come away : for Life and Thought
But in a city glorious
Would they could have stayed with us!
THE DYING SWAN.
The plain was grassy, wild, and bare,
An under-roof of doleful gray.
And loudly did lament.
And took the reed-tops as it went.
Some blue peaks in the distance rose,
One willow over the river wept,
Chasing itself at its own wild will,
The tangled water-courses slept,
The wild swan's death-hymn took the soul