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Which only the angels hear, May have broken the woof of my tent's thin roof,

The stars peep behind her and

peer;

And I laugh to see them whirl and flee,

Like a swarm of golden bees, When I widen the rent in my windbuilt tent,

Till the calm rivers, lakes, and

seas,

Like strips of the sky fallen through me on high

Are each paved with the moon and these.

I am the daughter of earth and water,

And the nursling of the sky; I pass through the pores of the ocean and shores;

I change, but I cannot die. For after the rain, when with never a stain,

The pavilion of heaven is bare, And the winds and sunbeams, with their convex gleams,

Build up the blue dome of air, I silently laugh at my own cenotaph, And out of the caverns of rain, Like a child from the womb, like a ghost from the tomb,

I arise and unbuild it again.

SHELLEY.

A DROP OF DEW.

SEE how the orient dew, Shed from the bosom of the morn

Into the blowing roses,

(Yet careless of its mansion new, For the clear region where 'twas born.)

Round in itself encloses

And, in its little globe's extent, Frames, as it can, its native element. How it the purple flower does slight,

Scarce touching where it lies', But gazing back upon the skies, Shines with a mournful light, Like its own tear, Because so long divided from the sphere.

Restless it rolls, and insecure, Trembling, lest it grow impure;

Till the warm sun pities its pain, And to the skies exhales it back again.

So the soul, that drop, that ray, Of the clear fountain of eternal day,

Could it within the human flower be seen,

Remembering still its former height,

Shuns the sweet leaves, and blossoms green,

And, recollecting its own light, Does, in its pure and circling thoughts, express

The greater heaven in a heaven less.
In how coy a figure wound,
Every way it turns away,
So the world excluding round,
Yet receiving in the day,
Dark beneath, but bright above,
Here disdaining, there in love.
How loose and easy hence to go;
How girt and ready to ascend;
Moving but on a point below,
It all about does upwards bend.
Such did the manna's sacred dew dis-
til,

White and entire, although congealed and chill;

Congealed on earth; but does, dissolving, run

Into the glories of the almighty sun. MARVELL.

SMOKE.

LIGHT-WINGED Smoke! Icarian bird, Melting thy pinions in thy upward flight;

Lark without song, and messenger of dawn,

Circling above the hamlets as thy nest;

Or else, departing dream, and shadowy form

Of midnight vision, gathering up thy skirts;

By night star-veiling, and by day Darkening the light and blotting out

the sun;

Go thou, my incense, upward from this hearth,

And ask the gods to pardon this clear flame.

THOREAU.

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II.

HUMAN LIFE.

HOME. WOMAN. LOVE. - FRIENDSHIP. — MANNERS.— BEAUTY.

The privates of man's heart-
They speken and sound in his ear

As though they loud winds were."― GOWER.

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