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And the rain comes sobbing Through the budding wood, While the low south wind sighs, but dare not be more rude.

Were your pure lips fashioned
Out of air and dew-
Starlight unimpassioned,
Dawn's most tender hue,
And scented by the woods that gath-
ered sweets for you?

Fairest and most lonely,
From the world apart;
Made for beauty only,
Veiled from Nature's heart
With such unconscious grace
makes the dream of Art!

Were not mortal sorrow
An immortal shade,

Then would I to-morrow

Such a flower be made,

I give thee love as God gives light,
Aside from merit, or from prayer,
Rejoicing in its own delight,
And freer than the lavish air.

I give thee prayers, like jewels strung On golden threads of hope and fear; And tenderer thoughts than ever hung

In a sad angel's pitying tear.

As earth pours freely to the sea
Her thousand streams of wealth un-
told,

So flows my silent life to thee,
Glad that its very sands are gold.

What care I for thy carelessness?
I give from depths that overflow,
Regardless that their power to bless

And live in the dear woods where my Thy spirit cannot sound or know.

lost childhood played.

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Then sing in the hedgerow green, O And in the open cottage door

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My pretty babe was playing. Aslant the sill a sunbeam lay:

I laughed in careless pleasure, To see his little hand essay

To grasp the shining treasure.

To-day no shafts of golden flame
Across the sill are lying;
To-day I call my baby's name,

And hear no lisped replying; To-dayah, baby mine, to-dayGod holds thee in his keeping! And yet I weep, as one pale ray Breaks in upon thy sleeping — I weep to see its shining bands

Reach, with a fond endeavor, To where the little restless hands Are crossed in rest forever!

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I'll bid thee fetch but yesterday, And it shall be too hard a task to do.

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Beside repentance, what canst 'T were an ill world, I'll swear, for

find

That it hath left behind?

But his past life, who without grief can see,

Who never thinks his end too near,

every friend,

If distance could their union end: But love itself does far advance Above the power of time and space, It scorns such outward circumstance, His time's forever, everywhere, his place.

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