A tide of beauty with returning May
Floods the fair city; from warm pavements fume
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To me, a pilgrim on that journey bound
Whose stations Beauty's bright examples are,
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Amid the florid multitude her face
Was like the full moon seen behind the lace
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I care not that one listen if he lives
For aught but life's romance, nor puts above
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Sidney, in whom the heyday of romance
Came to its precious and most perfect flower,
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If I was drawn here from a distant place,
'Twas not to pray nor hear our friend's address,
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Give me the treble of thy horns and hoofs,
The ponderous undertones of 'bus and tram,
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Oft as by chance, a little while apart
The pall of empty, loveless hours withdrawn,
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When among creatures fair of countenance
Love comes enformed in such proud character,
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Another prospect pleased the builder's eye,
And Fashion tenanted (where Fashion wanes)
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IT may be for the world of weeds and tares
And dearth in Nature of sweet Beauty's rose
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There was a boy -- not above childish fears --
With steps that faltered now and straining ears,
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There was a youth around whose early way
White angels hung in converse and sweet choir,
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Oh, you are more desirable to me
Than all I staked in an impulsive hour,
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Her eyes under their lashes were blue pools
Fringed round with lilies; her bright hair unfurled
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A splendor, flamelike, born to be pursued,
With palms extent for amorous charity
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My spirit only lived to look on Beauty's face,
As only when they clasp the arms seem served aright;
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Not that I always struck the proper mean
Of what mankind must give for what they gain,
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Florence, rejoice! For thou o'er land and sea
So spread'st thy pinions that the fame of thee
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Up at his attic sill the South wind came
And days of sun and storm but never peace.
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Oh, love of woman, you are known to be
A passion sent to plague the hearts of men;
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There have been times when I could storm and plead,
But you shall never hear me supplicate.
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To see the clouds his spirit yearned toward so
Over new mountains piled and unploughed waves,
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I know a village in a far-off land
Where from a sunny, mountain-girdled plain
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Apart sweet women (for whom Heaven be blessed),
Comrades, you cannot think how thin and blue
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Clouds rosy-tinted in the setting sun,
Depths of the azure eastern sky between,
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Purged, with the life they left, of all
That makes life paltry and
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A cloud has lowered that shall not soon pass o'er.
The world takes sides: whether for impious aims
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Her courts are by the flux of flaming ways,
Between the rivers and the illumined sky
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Above the ruin of God's holy place,
Where man-forsaken lay the bleeding rood,
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