Lest my beseeching face—at last—
Rejected—be—of Her?
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And Sunrise grows so nearThat we can touch the Spaces—It’s time to smooth the Hair—And get the Dimples ready—And wonder we could careFor that old—faded Midnight—That frightened—but an Hour—
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This Edifice remain—A Turret more, a Turret lessDishonor his Design—According as his skill preferIt perish, or endure—Content, soe’er, it ornamentHis absent character.
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Need the wiser, tell?If the Savants ‘Classify’ themIt is just as well!Those who read the ‘Revelations’Must not criticizeThose who read the same Edition—With beclouded Eyes!Could we stand with that Old ‘Moses’—‘Canaan’ denied—Scan like him, the stately landscapeOn the other side—Doubtless, we should deem superfluousMany Sciences,Not pursued by learned AngelsIn scholastic skies!Low amid that glad Belles…
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If Others want to seeIt can be had on Window PanesSome Hours in the Day.But not for Compensation—It holds as large a GlowTo Squirrel in the HimmalehPrecisely, as to you.
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Embarrassed—not afraid—Encounter in my gardenAn unexpected Maid.She beckons, and the woods start—She nods, and all begin—Surely, such a countryI was never in!
God permit industrious angels
I met one, — forgot my school-mates,All, for him, straightaway.God calls home the angels promptlyAt the setting sun;I missed mine. How dreary marbles,After playing the Crown!