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"Change, reverting to the years,

When thy nerves could understand What there is in loving tears,

And the warmth of hand in hand.

"Tell me tales of thy first love April hopes, the fools of chance; Till the graves begin to move,

And the dead begin to dance.

"Fill the can, and fill the cup :
All the windy ways of men

Are but dust that rises up,
And is lightly laid again.

"Trooping from their mouldy dens The chap-fallen circle spreads: Welcome, fellow-citizens,

Hollow hearts and empty heads!

"You are bones, and what of that?
Every face, however full,
Padded round with flesh and fat,
Is but modell'd on a skull.

"Death is king, and Vivat Rex!

Tread a measure on the stones,

Madam if I know your sex,
From the fashion of your bones.

"No, I cannot praise the fire

In your eye

nor yet your lip :

All the more do I admire

Joints of cunning workmanship.

"Lo! God's likeness the ground-plan

Neither modell'd, glazed, or framed :
Buss me, thou rough sketch of man,
Far too naked to be shamed!

"Drink to Fortune, drink to Chance,
While we keep a little breath!
Drink to heavy Ignorance!

Hob-and-nob with brother Death!

"Thou art mazed, the night is long,
And the longer night is near:
What! I am not all as wrong
As a bitter jest is dear.

"Youthful hopes, by scores, to all,

When the locks are crisp and curl'd;

Unto me my maudlin gall

And my mockeries of the world.

"Fill the cup, and fill the can!

Mingle madness, mingle scorn!

Dregs of life, and lees of man :

Yet we will not die forlorn."

5.

The voice grew faint: there came a further change: Once more uprose the mystic mountain-range : Below were men and horses pierced with worms, And slowly quickening into lower forms;

By shards and scurf of salt, and scum of dross, Old plash of rains, and refuse patch'd with moss. Then some one spake: "Behold! it was a crime Of sense avenged by sense that wore with time."

Another said: "The crime of sense became
The crime of malice, and is equal blame."
And one: 66
He had not wholly quench'd his power;
A little grain of conscience made him sour."
At last I heard a voice upon the slope
Cry to the summit, “Is there any hope?
To which an answer peal'd from that high land,
But in a tongue no man could understand;
And on the glimmering limit far withdrawn
God made Himself an awful rose of dawn.

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OME not, when I am dead;

COM

To drop thy foolish tears upon my grave,

To trample round my fallen head,

And vex the unhappy dust thou would'st not save. There let the wind sweep and the plover cry; But thou, go by.

Child, if it were thine error or thy crime
I care no longer, being all unblest :

Wed whom thou wilt, but I am sick of Time,
And I desire to rest.

Pass on, weak heart, and leave me where I lie:

Go by, go by.

THE EAGLE.

FRAGMENT.

H

E clasps the crag with hooked hands; Close to the sun in lonely lands, Ring'd with the azure world, he stands.

The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls;
He watches from his mountain walls,
And like a thunderbolt he falls.

OVE eastward, happy earth, and leave

Μ
Mov

Yon orange sunset waning slow :

From fringes of the faded eve,

O, happy planet, eastward go;
Till over thy dark shoulder glow
Thy silver sister-world, and rise
To glass herself in dewy eyes
That watch me from the glen below.

Ah, bear me with thee, lightly borne,
Dip forward under starry light,
And inove me to my marriage-morn,
And round again to happy night.

BREAK, break, break,

On thy cold gray stones, O Sea!

And I would that my tongue could utter
The thoughts that arise in me.

O well for the fisherman's boy,

That he shouts with his sister at play!

O well for the sailor lad,

That he sings in his boat on the bay!

And the stately ships go on

To their haven under the hill;

But O for the touch of a vanish'd hand,
And the sound of a voice that is still! *

Break, break, break,

At the foot of thy crags, O Sea!

But the tender grace of a day that is dead
Will never come back to me.

THE POET'S SONG.

THE rain had fallen, the Poet arose,

He pass'd by the town and out of the street, A light wind blew from the gates of the sun, And waves of shadow went over the wheat,

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