I Alphonso live and learn,
Seeing nature go astern.
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Give to barrows, trays, and pans
Grace and glimmer of romance;
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Himself it was who wrote
His rank, and quartered his own coat.
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BRING me wine, but wine which never grew
In the belly of the grape,
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Was never form and never face
So sweet to SEYD as only grace
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May be true what I had heard,
Earth's a howling wilderness
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Give me truths,
For I am weary of the surfaces,
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The rocky nook with hilltops three
Looked eastward from the farms,
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The word of the Lord by night
To the watching Pilgrims came,
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If the red slayer think he slays,
Or if the slain think he is slain,
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Higher far,
Upward, into the pure realm,
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The sun set, but set not his hope:
Stars rose; his faith was earlier up:
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Why should I keep holiday,
When other men have none?
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By the rude bridge that arched the flood, Their flag to April's breeze unfurled,
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Can rules or tutors educate
The semigod whom we await?
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Daughters of Time, the hypocritic Days,
Muffled and dumb like barefoot dervishes,
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Knows he who tills this lonely field
To reap its scanty corn,
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Man was made of social earth,
Child and brother from his birth;
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Little thinks, in the field, yon red-cloaked clown,
Of thee, from the hill-top looking down;
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The sense of the world is short, -
Long and various the report, -
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I serve you not, if you I follow,
Shadow-like, o'er hill and hollow,
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The lords of life, the lords of life,—-
I saw them pass,
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The mountain and the squirrel
Had a quarrel;
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Deep in the man sits fast his fate
To mould his fortunes, mean or great:
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Hast thou named all the birds without a gun;
Loved the wood-rose, and left it on its stalk;
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LONG I followed happy guides,
I could never reach their sides;
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Once I wished I might rehearse
Freedom's paean in my verse,
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A ruddy drop of manly blood
The surging sea outweighs,
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Butler, fetch the ruby wine,
Which with sudden greatness fills us;
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Of Paradise, O hermit wise,
Let us renounce the thought.
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