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"I love the Lady of Merle," he said.
"Turn me a rhyme," said Fate,
Time and I pass to and fro,
Sorrow, my friend,
O love, I come; thy last glance guideth me!
He handed his life a poisoned draught,
There in the midst of gloom the church-spire rose,
The sun is lying on the garden-wall,
"Cross my hands upon my breast,"
When I shall go
Dear little Dorothy, she is no more!
New days are dear, and cannot be unloved,
O girl of spring! O brown-eyed girl!
Weeping for another's woe,
I loved a child as we should love
[In Memory: 1877.]
Somewhere, somewhere in this heart
Ill-wrought life we look at as we die!
I dreamed within a dream the sun was gold;
We are moving on in silence,
Here is a world of changing glow,
My graveyard holds no once-loved human forms,
All to herself a woman never sings
Gray towers make me think of thee,
O soul of life, 't is thee we long to hear,
The sanctity that is about the dead
Turn thy face to me, my love,
So ancient to myself I seem,
The thanking heart can only silence keep;
We speak of the world that passes away, -
An angel spoke with me, and lo, he hoarded
[Nathaniel Hawthorne, 1864.]
Lullaby on the wing
Pray, have you heard the news?
Eileen of four,
Say not, sad bell, another hour hath come,
We all have hearts that shake alike
Down slant the moonbeams to the floor
At purple eyes beside the grain,
Come, brothers, let us sing a dirge, -
To his heart it struck such terror
The mothers wish for no more daughters;
The world was like a shell to me, -
A shadowed form before the light,
A broken mirror in a trembling hand;
Touch gently, friend, and slow, the violin, So sweet and low,
We see the sky, - we love it day by day;
Twenty bold mariners went to the wave,
Take me away into a storm of snow
Paler than the water's white
Hand me my light gloves, James;
Why is the nameless sorrowing look
Labor not in the murky dell,