Verse calls them forth; ’tis verse that gives
Immortal youth to mortal maids.
Soon shall oblivion’s deepening veil
Hide all the peopled hills you see,
The gay, the proud, while lovers hail
These many summers you and me.
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Death stands above me, whispering low
Of his strange language all I knowIs, there is not a word of fear.
Rejoice, ye nations! one is dead
Widows and orphans, raise your voice . .One voice, ye prostrate peoples, raiseTo God; to God alone be praise!All dwellers upon earth, rejoice:The imprisond soul, the tortured limb,Are now at last set free by Him.Each king their fellow king suppliedWith thongs to scourge ye: but your wrongsReacht highest heaven; Angelic tonguesShouted when Earth’s Flagellant died.The…
Well I remember how you smiled
The soft sea-sand . . . ‘O! what a child!You think you’re writing upon stone!’I have since written what no tideShall ever wash away, what menUnborn shall read o’er ocean wideAnd find Ianthe’s name again.
THERE falls with every wedding chime
You pick it up, and say “How fairTo look upon its colors are!”Another drops day after dayUnheeded; not one word you say.When bright and dusky are blown past,Upon the hearse there nods the last.
From you, Ianthe, little troubles pass
Your pleasures spring like daisies in the grass,Cut down, and up again as blithe as ever.
TO turn my volumes o’er nor find
Some vestige of an erring mindTo chide or discommend,Believe that all were lov’d like youWith love from blame exempt,Believe that all my griefs were trueAnd all my joys but dreamt.