On the first day the priest
Could find no heart in the beast,
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LEAVES and rain and the days of the year,
(Water-willow and wellaway,)
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AT length the then of my long hope was now;
Yet had my spirit an extreme unrest:
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The turn of noontide has begun.
In the weak breeze the sunshine yields.
14 lines
Our Lombard country-girls along the coast
Wear daggers in their garters: for they know
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WEARY already, weary miles to-night
I walked for bed: and so, to get some ease,
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ALONG the grass sweet airs are blown
Our way this day in Spring.
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LADY, in thy proud eyes
There is a weary look,
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HER lute hangs shadowed in the apple-tree,
While flashing fingers weave the sweet-strung spell
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Look in my face; my name is Might-have-been; I am also call'd No-more, Too-late, Farewell;
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THESE little firs to-day are things
To clasp into a giant's cap,
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“O WOODMAN, spare that block,
Oh gash not anyhow!
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WAVING whispering trees,
What do you say to the breeze
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AS when the last of the paid joys of love
Has come and gone; and with a single kiss
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LO the twelfth year—the wedding-feast come round
With years for months—and lo the babe new-born;
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SHE opened her moist crimson lips to sing;
And from her throat that is so white and full
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AH! dear one, we were young so long,
It seemed that youth would never go,
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YOU say I should not think upon her now:
But then I have stood beside her listening,
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EVEN as when utter summer makes the grain
Bow heavily along through the whole land
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THROUGH one, years since hanged and forgot
Who stabbed backs by the Quarter,
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“How should I your true love know
From another one?”
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OF her I thought who now is gone so far:
And, the thought passing over, to fall thence
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I climbed the stair in Antwerp church,
What time the circling thews of sound
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We are upon the Scheldt. We know we move
Because there is a floating at our eyes
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On landing, the first voice one hears is from
An English police-constable; a man
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Andromeda, by Perseus sav'd and wed,
Hanker'd each day to see the Gorgon's head:
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MYSTERY: lo! betwixt the sun and moon
Astarte of the Syrians: Venus Queen
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THAT voice I hear,—how heard I cannot tell,—
Although my home is this, seems from my home:
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I WAITED for the train unto Versailles.
I hung with bonnes and gamins on the bridge
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God said, Let there be light; and there was light.
Then heard we sounds as though the Earth did sing
14 lines
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