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And murmur'd at such lowly lot
Upon the vapor of the dew
Of beauty which did while it thro'
We walk'd together on the crown
Of rock and forest, on the hills —
And shouting with a thousand rills.
I spoke to her of power and pride,
But mystically — in such guise
The moment's converse; in her eyes
A mingled feeling with my own ; The flush on her bright cheek, to me
Seem'd to become a queenly throne Too well that I should let it be
Light in the wilderness alone.
I wrapp'd myself in grandeur then
And donn'd a visionary crown
Yet it was not that Fantasy
Had thrown her mantle over me But that, among the rabble - men,
Lion ambition is chain'd down -
Look 'round thee now on Samarcand !
Is she not queen of Earth? her pride Above all cities ? in her hand
Their destinies ? in all beside Of glory which the world hath known Stands she not nobly and alone? Falling - hier veriest stepping-stone Shall form the pedestal of a throne And who her sovereign? Timour — he
Whom the astonished people saw Striding o'er empires haughtily
A diadem'd outlaw !
0, human love! thou spirit given,
Idea! which bindest life around
When Hope, the eagle that tower'd, could see
No cliff beyond him in the sky, His pinions were bent droopingly
And homeward turn'd his soften'd eye. 'T was sunset; when the sun will part There comes a sullenness of heart To him who still would look upon The glory of the summer sun. That soul will hate the ev'ning mist So osten lovely, and will list To the sound of the coming darkness (known To those whose spirits harken) as one Who, in a dream of night, would fly But cannot from a danger nigh. What tho' the moon the white moon Shed all the splendor of her noon, Her smile is chilly -- and her beam, In that time of dreariness, will seem (So like you gather in your breath) A portrait taken after death. And boyhood is a summer sun Whose waning is the dreariest one
For all we live to know is known,
home my home no more For all had flown who made it so. I pass'd from out its mossy door,
And, tho' my tread was soft and low, A voice came from the threshold stone Of one whom I had earlier known
O, I defy thee, Hell, to show
A humbler heart a deeper woe.
From regions of the blest afar,
Hath left his iron gate ajar,
Are flashing thro’ Eternity -
From the most unpolluted things,
Unseen, amid the revels there,
In the tangles of Love's very hair?
HE bowers whereat, in dreams, I see
The wantonest singing birds, Are lips — and all thy melody
Of lip-begotten words.
Thine eyes, in Heaven of heart enshrined, ,
Then desolately fall,
Like starlight on a pall.
Thy heart - thy heart - I wake and sigh,
And sleep to dream till day
Of the baubles that it may.