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The fiery mountains answer each other;
From a single cloud the lightning flashes,
But keener thy gaze than the lightning's glare,
From billow and mountain and exhalation
Mime eyes were dim with tears unshed;
Yes, I was firm—thus did not thou; My battled looks did fear yet dread
To meet thy looks—I could not know How anxiously they sought to shine With soothing pity upon mine.
To sit and curb the soul's mute rage
To curse the life which is the cage
Hiding from many a careless eye
The scorned load of agony.
Whilst thou alone, then not regarded,
To spend years thus, and be rewarded,
When none were near—Oh! I did wake
From torture for that moment's sake. .
Upon my heart thy accents sweet
On flowers half dead ; — thy lips did meet
Their soft persuasion on my brain,
Charming away its dream of pain.
We are not happy, sweet; our state
More need of words that ills abate ;—
Our sacred friendship, lest there be
No solace left for thee and me.
Gentle and good and mild thou art,
Aught but thyself, or turn thine heart
The mask of scorn, although it be
To hide the love you feel for me.
SONG OF A SPIRIT.
Within the silent centre of the earth
My mansion is; where I have lived insphered
From the beginning, and around my sleep
Have woven all the wondrous imagery
Of this dim spot, which mortals call the world;
Infinite depths of unknown elements
Massed into one impenetrable mask;
Sheets of immeasurable fire, and veins
Of gold and stone, and adamantine iron.
And as a veil in which I walk through Heaven
I have wrought mountain*, seas, and waves, and clouds,
And lastly light, whose interfusion dawns
In the dark space of interstellar air.
There was a little lawny islet
Like mosaic, paven:
Each a gem engraven.
A lake's blue chasm.
Ye hasten to the dead! What seek ye there,
Ye restless thoughts and busy purposes
Of the idle brain, which the world's livery wear?
Oh thou quick Heart which pantest to possess
AH that anticipation feigneth fair!
Thou vai nly curious mind which wouldest guess
Whence thou didst come, and whither thou may'st go,
And that which never yet was known wouldst know
Oh, whither hasten ye that thus ye press
With such swift feet life's green and pleasant path,
Seeking alike from happiness and woe
A refuge in the cavern of grey death }
Oh heart, and mind, and thoughts! What thing do you
Hope to inherit in ihe grave below 1
Noh happiness, nor majesty, nor fame,