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you must die.
But tho' his eyes are waxing dim,
Old year, you shall not die;
Every one for his own.
Comes up to take his own.
Shake hands, before you die.
Speak out before you die.
his chin : Step from the corpse, and let him in "That standeth there alone,
And waiteth at the door.
friend, And a new face at the door, my friend,
A new face at the door. (1853)
TO J. S.
More softly round the open wold,
That are cast in gentle mould.
And me this knowledge bolder made
Or else I had not dared to flow
Even with a verse your holy woe.
Those in whose laps our limbs are nursed,
Those we love first are taken first.
He lends us; but, when love is grown
Falls off, and love is left alone.
In grief I am not all unlearn’d;
One went, who never hath return'd.
Once more. Two years his chair is seen
Without whose life I had not been.
Rose with you thro' a little arc
Shot on the sudden into dark.
I honour and his living worth:
Was never born into the earth.
Since that dear soul hath fallin asleep.
I will not tell you not to weep.
Drawn from the spirit thro' the brain,
"Weep, weeping dulls the inward pain.” Let Grief be her own mistress still.
She loveth her own anguish deep
Be done—to weep or not to weep.
I will not say “God's ordinance
Of Death is blown in every wind;'
That takes away a noble mind.
In all our hearts, as mournful light
And dwells in heaven half the night.
Cast down her eyes, and in her throat
Dropt on the letters as I wrote.
How should I soothe you anyway,
Yet something I did wish to say:
Both are my friends, and my true breast
That only silence suiteth best.
'Twere better I should cease; Although myself could almost take
The place of him that sleeps in peace.
Sleep, holy spirit, blessed soul,
And the great ages onward roll.
Nothing comes to thee new or strange.
Lie still, dry dust, secure of change. (1853)
You ask me, why, tho' ill at ease,
Within this region I subsist,
Whose spirits falter in the mist,
It is the land that freemen till,
That sober-suited Freedom chose,
The land, where girt with friends or foes
A land of just and old renown,
Where Freedom broadens slowly down
But by degrees to fullness wrought,
The strength of some diffusive thought Hath time and space to work and spread. Should banded unions persecute
Opinion, and induce a time
When single thought is civil crime,
Tho' Power should make from land to land
The name of Britain trebly great
Tho' every channel of the State
Wild wind! I seek a warmer sky,
And I will see before I die The palms and temples of the South. (1853)
Of old sat Freedom on the heights,
The thunders breaking at her feet :
She heard the torrents meet.
There in her place she did rejoice,
Self-gather'd in her prophet-mind,
Came rolling on the wind.
To mingle with the human race,
The fullness of her face
Grave mother of majestic works,
From her isle-altar gazing down,
And, King-like, wears the crown:
The wisdom of a thousand years
Keep dry their light from tears ;
Make bright our days and light our dreams, Turning to scorn with lips divine
The falsehood of extremes ! (1853)
LOVE thou thy land, with love far-brought
From out the storied Past, and used
Within the Present, but transfused
Love, that endures not sordid ends,
For English natures, freemen, friends,
Nor feed with crude imaginings
The herd, wild hearts and feeble wings,
To weakness, neither hide the ray
From those, not blind, who wait for day,
But let her herald, Reverence, fly
Before her to whatever sky
Cut Prejudice against the grain:
But gentle words are always gain :