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But love what she loves in others, || evermore | her own dɔth


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Thus the several joy of each becomes the common | joy of all." . . . Cardinal Damiani.

The Cæsural Pause is one used to divide a line of poetry into equal or unequal parts; as,

after labors, others, and each, in the preceding example.

The Demi-Cæsural Pause is a short pause which sometimes divides the parts of the line already divided by the Cæsura; as,

after diverse, rewards, love, evermore, thus, and common.

It will be observed that the places for the occurrence of the Casural and Demi-Cesural, always depend upon the Sentential and Rhetorical pauses; thus, believing that the sense of the passage demands that the Rhetorical pause should be used after curfew, in the line "The curfew tolls the knell of parting day,"

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the Casural also occurs there; but if, from a misunderstanding of the true meaning, we should imagine that knell was placed in apposition with curfew, we should have both the rhetorical and cæsural pause occurring after tolls; as,

"The curfew tolls . . . the knell of parting day."

When no pause is required either by the punctuation or the sentiment, the harmonic pause should not be observed.



"Launch thy bark, mariner!

Christian, God speed thee;
Let loose the rudder bands,

"Good angels lead thee!
Set thy sails warily,

Tempests will come;

Steer thy course steadily,

Christian, steer home."


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Yet seeking, ever seeking

Like the children, I have won

A guerdon all undreamt of

When first my guest begun,

And my thoughts come back like wanderers,
Out-wearied, to my breast;

What they sought for long they found not,

Yet was the unsought best.

For I sought not out for crosses,

I did not seek for pain;

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"Two hands to work addrest,

Aye for His praise;

Two feet that never rest

Walking His ways;

Two eyes that look above

Through all their tears;

Two lips still breathing love,

Not wrath, nor fears;'

So pray we afterwards, low on our knees;

Pardon those erring prayers! Father, hear these!"

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"Come, pensive Nun, devout and pure,
Sober, steadfast, and demure,
All in a robe of darkest grain,
Flowing with majestic train,
And sable stole of cypress lawn,
Over thy decent shoulders drawn.
Come, but keep thy wonted state,
With even step, and musing gait,
And looks commercing with the skies,
Thy rapt soul sitting in thine eyes."

IL PENSEROso.- Milton.

"Heavy with the heat and silence
Grew the afternoon of Summer;
With a drowsy sound the forest
Whispered round the sultry wigwam,
With a sound of sleep the water
Rippled on the beach below it; . .
Slowly o'er the simmering landscape
Fell the evening's dusk and coolness,
And the long and level sunbeams
Shot their spears into the forest,

Breaking through its shields of shadow,
Rushed into each secret ambush,
Searched each thicket, dingle, hollow;
Still the guests of Hiawatha

Slumbered in the silent wigwam."


"And poor, proud Byron,- sad as grave
And salt as life! forlornly brave,
And quivering with the dart he drave.

"And visionary Coleridge, who

Did sweep his thoughts as angels do
Their wings, with cadence up the Blue."

VISION OF POETS.- Mrs. Browning

Tetrameter and Dimeter.

"Truth is large. Our aspiration
Scarce embraces half we be.
Shame! to stand in His creation
And doubt Truth's sufficiency!
To think God's song unexcelling
The poor tales of our own telling-
When Pan is dead.

"O brave poets, keep back nothing:
Nor mix falsehood with the whole!
Look up Godward! speak the truth in
Worthy song from earnest soul!

Hold, in high poetic duty,

Truest Truth, the fairest Beauty!

Pan, Pan is dead."


"Dew-drops are the gems of morning,
But the tears of mournful eve!
Where no hope is, life's a warning
That only serves to make us grieve
When we are old:

That only serves to make us grieve
With oft and tedious taking-leave,
Like some poor nigh-related guest,
That may not rudely be dismist;
Yet hath outstayed his welcome while,
And tells the jest without the smile."

YOUTH AND AGE.-Coleridge.

Tetrameter and Trimeter.

"Oft in my waking dreams do I

Live o'er again that happy hour,

When midway on the mount I lay
Beside the ruin'd tower.

"The moonshine, stealing o'er the scene, Had blended with the lights of eve; And she was there, my hope, my joy,

My own dear Genevieve!"- LOVE.- Ibid.

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