THE VERDANT ivy clings around
Yon moss be-mantled wall,
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IT LIES amongst the sleeping stones,
Far down the hidden mountain glade;
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A SILVER slope, a fall of firs, a league of gleaming grasses,
And fiery cones, and sultry spurs, and swarthy pits and passes!
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HAVE faith in God. For whosoever lists
To calm conviction in these days of strife,
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A CLAMOUR by day and a whisper by night,
And the Summer comes—with the shining noons,
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THERE’S music wafting on the air,
The evening winds are sighing
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OUT of the body for ever,
Wearily sobbing, “Oh, whither?”
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WHEN God drave the ruthless waters
From our cornfields to the sea,
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AH, often do I wait and watch,
And look up, straining through the Real
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FAR in the ways of the hyaline wastes—in the face of the splendid
Six of the sisters—the star-dowered sisters ineffably bright,
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JUST when the western light
Flickered out dim,
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BENEATH the shelter of the bush,
In undisturbed repose—
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Manasseh, lord of Judah, and the son
Of him who, favoured of Jehovah, saw
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Another battle! and the sounds have rolled
By many a gloomy gorge and wasted plain
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CHILD of Light, the bright, the bird-like! wilt thou float and float to me,
Facing winds and sleets and waters, flying glimpses of t
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ACROSS bleak widths of broken sea
A fierce north-easter breaks,
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I HEAR no footfall beating through the dark,
A lonely gust is loitering at the pane;
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SAD FACES came round, and I dreamily said
“Though the harp of my country now slumbers,
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A MIGHTY theatre of snow and fire,
Girt with perpetual Winter, and sublime
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IT PASSED like the breath of the night-wind away,
It fled like a mist at the dawn of the day;
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SAID one who led the spears of swarthy Gad,
To Jesse’s mighty son: “My Lord, O King,
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LOW as a lute, my love, beneath the call
Of storm, I hear a melancholy wind;
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TO-NIGHT the sea sends up a gulf-like sound,
And ancient rhymes are ringing in my head,
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THE SONG of the water
Doomed ever to roam,
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Twelve years ago our Jack was lost. All night,
Twelve years ago, the Spirit of the Storm
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A SKY of wind! And while these fitful gusts
Are beating round the windows in the cold,
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AS WHEN the strong stream of a wintering sea
Rolls round our coast, with bodeful breaks of storm,
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Now, while Orion, flaming south, doth set
A shining foot on hills of wind and wet—
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THE PRIESTS and the Levites went forth, to feast at the courts of the Kings;
They were vain of their greatness and worth, and gladde
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SPIRIT of Loveliness! Heart of my heart!
Flying so far from me, Heart of my heart!
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