When I shall be divorced, some ten years hence,
From this poor present self which I am now;
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Before man parted for this earthly strand,
While yet upon the verge of heaven he stood,
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In front the awful Alpine track
Crawls up its rocky stair;
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_He saves the sheep, the goats he doth not save._
So rang Tertullian's sentence, on the side
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That son of Italy who tried to blow,
Ere Dante came, the trump of sacred song,
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What, Kaiser dead? The heavy news
Post-haste to Cobham calls the Muse,
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Four years!--and didst thou stay above
The ground, which hides thee now, but four?
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One morn as through Hyde Park we walk'd,
My friend and I, by chance we talk'd
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What mortal, when he saw,
Life's voyage done, his heavenly Friend,
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Long fed on boundless hopes, O race of man,
How angrily thou spurn'st all simpler fare!
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As the kindling glances,
Queen-like and clear,
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Was it a dream? We sail'd, I thought we sail'd,
Martin and I, down the green Alpine stream,
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A wanderer is man from his birth.
He was born in a ship
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God knows it, I am with you. If to prize
Those virtues, priz'd and practis'd by too few,
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And you, ye stars,
Who slowly begin to marshal,
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Who prop, thou ask'st in these bad days, my mind?--
He much, the old man, who, clearest-souled of men,
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IN THIS fair stranger’s eyes of grey
Thine eyes, my love, I see.
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Creep into thy narrow bed,
Creep, and let no more be said!
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Crouch'd on the pavement close by Belgrave Square
A tramp I saw, ill, moody, and tongue-tied;
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In his cool hall, with haggard eyes,
The Roman noble lay;
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In the deserted, moon-blanched street,
How lonely rings the echo of my feet!
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Thou, who dost dwell alone;
Thou, who dost know thine own;
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How changed is here each spot man makes or fills!
In the two Hinkseys nothing keeps the same;
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Even in a palace, life may be led well!
So spake the imperial sage, purest of men,
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Saint Brandan sails the northern main;
The brotherhood of saints are glad.
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Faster, faster,
O Circe, Goddess,
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Coldly, sadly descends
The autumn-evening. The field
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'Twas August, and the fierce sun overhead
Smote on the squalid streets of Bethnal Green,
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Yes! in the sea of life enisled,
With echoing straits between us thrown,
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