Now are thoughts thou shalt not banish,
Now are visions ne'er to vanish; 20
From thy spirit shall they pass
No more, like dewdrops from the grass.
The breeze, the breath of God, is still,
And the mist upon the hill
Shadowy, shadowy, yet unbroken, 25
Is a symbol and a token.
How it hangs upon the trees,
A mystery of mysteries!
TO ----
I heed not that my earthly lot
Hath little of Earth in it,
That years of love have been forgot
In the hatred of a minute:
I mourn not that the desolate 5
Are happier, sweet, than I,
But that you sorrow for my fate
Who am a passer-by.
ROMANCE
Romance, who loves to nod and sing
With drowsy head and folded wing
Among the green leaves as they shake
Far down within some shadowy lake,
To me a painted paroquet 5
Hath been--a most familiar bird--
Taught me my alphabet to say,
To lisp my very earliest word
While in the wild-wood I did lie,
A child--with a most knowing eye. 10
Of late, eternal condor years
So shake the very heaven on high
With tumult as they thunder by,
I have no time for idle cares
Through gazing on the unquiet sky; 15
And when an hour with calmer wings
Its down upon my spirit flings,
That little time with lyre and rhyme
To while away--forbidden things--
My heart would feel to be a crime 20
Unless it trembled with the strings.
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