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And feeling hearts,- touch them but

rightly,- pour

But there are moments which he calls his own.

A thousand melodies unheard before! Then, never less alone than when

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Then happiest, youngest, when the quoit is flung,

When side by side the archers' bows are strung;

His to prescribe the place, adjudge the prize, [energies

alone,

Those whom he loved so long and

sees no more,

Loved and still loves,-not dead,but gone before,

He gathers round him; and revives at will

Scenes in his life,- that breathe enchantment still,

That come not now at dreary intervals,

But where a light as from the blessed falls,

A light such guests bring ever,— pure and holy,

Lapping the soul in sweetest melancholy!

—Ah, then less willing (nor the choice condemn)

Envying no more the young their To live with others than to think of Than they an old man when his

words are wise;

His a delight how pure .. with

out alloy;

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them!

[From The Pleasures of Memory.]
MEMORY.

THOU first, best friend that heaven assigns below

To soothe and sweeten all the cares we know;

Whose glad suggestions still each vain alarm,

When nature fades and life forgets to charm;

Thee would the Muse invoke! - to thee belong

The sage's precept and the poet's song.

What softened views thy magic glass reveals,

When o'er the landscape time's meek twilight steals!

As when in ocean sinks the orb of day,

Long on the wave reflected lustres play;

Thy tempered gleams of happiness resigned

Glance on the darkened mirror of the mind.

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Shall I meet other wayfarers at night?
Those who have gone before.
Then must I knock, or call when just
in sight?

They will not keep you standing at the door.

Shall I find comfort, travel-sore and weak?

Of labor you shall find the sum. Will there be beds for me and all who seek?

Yea, beds for all who come.

REMEMBER.

REMEMBER me when I am gone away,

Gone far away into the silent land; When you can no more hold me by the hand,

Nor I half turn to go, yet turning stay. Remember me when no more day by day

You tell me of our future that you planned;

Only remember me; you under

stand [pray. It will be late to counsel then or Yet if you should forget me for a while

And afterwards remember, do not
grieve:
[leave

For if the darkness and corruption
A vestige of the thoughts that once

I had,

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I wonder if the springtide of this year

Will bring another spring both lost and dear;

If heart and spirit will find out their spring,

Or if the world alone will bud and sing:

Sing, hope, to me; Sweet notes, my hope, soft notes for memory.

The sap will surely quicken soon or late,

The tardiest bird will twitter to a mate;

So spring must dawn again with warmth and bloom,

Or in this world, or in the world to

come:

Sing, voice of spring, Till I too blossom, and rejoice and sing.

SONG.

WHEN I am dead, my dearest,
Sing no sad songs for me;
Plant thou no roses at my head,
Nor shady cypress tree:
Be the green grass above me
With showers and dewdrops wet;
And if thou wilt, remember,
And if thou wilt, forget.

I shall not see the shadows,
I shall not feel the rain;

I shall not hear the nightingale
Sing on, as if in pain:

And dreaming through the twilight
That doth not rise nor set,
Haply I may remember,
And haply may forget.

SOUND SLEEP.

SOME are laughing, some are weeping;

She is sleeping, only sleeping.

I still am sore in doubt concerning Round her rest wild flowers are

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There by day the lark is singing

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AT HOME.

And the grass and weeds are spring- WHEN I was dead, my spirit turned

ing;

There by night the bat is winging; There for ever winds are bringing Far-off chimes of church-bells ringing.

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To seek the much-frequented

house;

I passed the door, and saw my friends Feasting beneath green orange boughs;

From hand to hand they pushed the wine,

They sucked the pulp of plum and peach;

They sang, they jested, and they laughed,

For each was loved of each.

I listened to their honest chat:

Said one: "To-morrow we shall be Plod plod along the featureless sands, And coasting miles and miles of sea."

Said one: "Before the turn of tide

We will achieve the eyrie-seat.' Said one: "To-morrow shall be like To-day, but much more sweet." "To-morrow," said they, strong with hope,

And dwelt upon the pleasant way: "To-morrow," cried they one and all, While no one spoke of yesterday. Their life stood full at blessed noon; I, only I, had passed away: "To-morrow and to-day" they cried: I was of yesterday.

I shivered comfortless, but cast
No chill across the tablecloth;

I all-forgotten shivered, sad

To stay, and yet to part how loth: I passed from the familiar room, I who from love had passed away, Like the remembrance of a guest That tarrieth but a day.

DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI.

THE SEA-LIMITS.

CONSIDER the sea's listless chime: Time's self it is, made audible, The murmur of the earth's own shell,

Secret continuance sublime

Is the era's end. Our sight may pass

No furlong farther. Since time

was,

Her robe, ungirt from clasp to hem,
No wrought flowers did adorn,
But a white rose of Mary's gift,
For service meetly worn;

Her hair that lay along her back
Was yellow like ripe corn.

Herseemed she scarce had been a day

One of God's choristers;

This sound hath told the lapse of The wonder was not yet quite gone

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From that still look of hers: Albeit, to them she left, her day Had counted as ten years.

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It lies in heaven, across the flood
Of ether, as a bridge.
Beneath, the tides of day and night
With flame and darkness ridge
The void, as low as where this earth
Spins like a fretful midge.

Around her, lovers, newly met

'Mid deathless love's acclaims

Spoke evermore among themselves

Their heart-remembered names; And the souls mounting up to God Went by her like thin flames;

And still she bowed herself and stooped

Out of the circling charm; Until her bosom must have made

The bar she leaned on warm, And the lilies lay as if asleep Along her bended arm.

From the fixed place of heaven she

saw

Time like a pulse shake fierce Through all the worlds. Her gaze

still strove Within the gulf to pierce

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