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The mist in my face,

When the snows begin, and the blasts denote

I am nearing the place,

The power of the night, the press of the storm,

The post of the foe;

Where he stands, the Arch-Fear in a visible form,

Yet the strong man must go; Now the journey is done and the summit attained,

And the barriers fall,

Though a battle 's to fight ere the guerdon be gained,

The reward of it all.

I was ever a fighter, so,- one fight

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Once his love grown chill, Mine may strive, Bitterly we re-embrace, Single still.

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On and on,

While I found some way undreamed,
-Paid my debt!

Give more life and more,

Sixteen years old when she died!
Perhaps she had scarcely heard my

name,

It was not her time to love; beside,
Her life had many a hope and aim,
Duties enough and little cares;

And now was quiet, now astir,
Till God's hand beckoned unawares,.
And the sweet white brow is all of
her.

Is it too late, then, Evelyn Hope? What! your soul was pure and true; The good stars met in your horoscope, Made you of spirit, fire, and dew; "She never seemed And just because I was thrice as old,

Till, all gone,

He should smile,

Mine before.

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BEAUTIFUL Evelyn Hope is dead!
Sit and watch by her side an hour.
That is her book-shelf, this her bed;
She plucked that piece of gera-
nium-flower,

Beginning to die too, in the glass.
Little has yet been changed, I
think,

And our paths in the world diverged

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In the lower earth, in the years long still,

That body and soul so pure and gay?

Why your hair was amber I shall divine,

And your mouth of your own gera nium's red,

The shutters are shut, -no light may | And what you would do with me, in

pass

Save two long rays through the hinge's chink.

fine,

In the new life come in the old one's

stead.

I have lived, shall I say, so much since HOW THEY BROUGHT THE GOOD

then,

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Kiss me as if you made believe You were not sure, this eve,

So

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Joris broke silence with "Yet there is time!"

Aerschot up leaped of a sudden the sun,

And against him the cattle stood black every one,

To stare through the mist at us galloping past;

And I saw my stout galloper Roland at last,

With resolute shoulders, each butting

away

The haze, as some bluff river headland its spray;

And his low head and crest, just one

sharp ear bent back

For my voice, and the other pricked out on his track;

And one eye's black intelligence, ever that glance

O'er its white edge at me, his own master, askance;

And the thick heavy spume-flakes, which aye and anon

His fierce lips shook upward in galloping on.

By Hasselt, Dirck groaned; and cried Joris, "Stay spur!

Your Roos galloped bravely, the fault's not in her;

We'll remember at Aix"

for one

heard the quick wheeze Of her chest, saw the stretched neck, and staggering knees,

And sunk tail, and horrible heave of the flank,

As down on her haunches she shuddered and sank.

So we were left galloping, Joris and I, Past Looz and past Tongres, no cloud in the sky;

The broad sun above laughed a pitiless laugh;

'Neath our feet broke the brittle,

bright stubble like chaff; Till over by Delhem a dome-spire sprang white, And "Gallop," gasped Joris, "for Aix is in sight!"

"How they'll greet us!"- and all in a moment his roan

Rolled neck and croup over, lay dead as a stone;

And there was my Roland to bear

the whole weight

Of the news which alone could save
Aix from her fate,
With his nostrils like pits full of
blood to the brim,

And with circles of red for his eyesockets' rim.

Then I cast loose my buff-coat, each holster let fall.

Shook off both my jack-boots, let go belt and all,

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Nor bright and envied, nor obscure and scorned,

Nor so young that their pleasures fell too thick,

Nor old past catching pleasure when it fell,

Nothing above, below the just degree, All at the mean where joy's components mix.

So again, in the couple's very souls You saw the adequate half with half to match,

Each having and each lacking somewhat, both

Making a whole that had all and lacked naught;

The round and sound, in whose composure just

The acquiescent and recipient side

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A worm was bred "Our life shall leave no fruit.

Enough of bliss, they thought, could bliss bear seed,

Was Pietro's, and the stirring striv-Yield its like, propagate a bliss in

ing one

Violante's: both in union gave the

due Quietude, enterprise, craving and

content,

Which go to bodily health and peace

of mind.

But, as 'tis said a body, rightly mixed,

Each element in equipoise, would last

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