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RARELY, rarely, comest thou,
Spirit of delight!
Many a day and night? Many a weary night and day 'Tis since thou art fled away.
How shall eyer one like me
Win thee back again ?
Thou wilt scoff at pain.
As a lizard with the shade
Of a trembling leaf,
Even the sighs of grief
Let me set my mournful ditty
To a merry measure,
Thou wilt come for pleasure,
I love all that thi u lovest,
Spirit of delight!
And the starry night ;
I love snow, and all the forms
Of the radiant frost;
Every thing almost
I love tranquil solitude,
And such society
Between thee and me
I love Love-though he has wings
And like light can flee, But above all other things,
Spirit, I love theeThou art love and life! O Come, Mako once more my heart thy home,
Swiftly walk over the western wave,
Spirit of Night!
Swift he thy flight!
Wrap thy form in a mantle grey,
Come, long sought !
When I arose and saw the dawn,
I sighed for thee ; When light rode high, and the dew was gone, And noon lay heavy on flower and tree, And the weary Day turned to is rest, Lingering like an unloved guest,
I sighed for thee.
Thy brother Death came,
and cried, Wouldst thou me ? Thy sweet child Sleep, the filmy-eyed,
Murmured like a noon-tide bee, Shall I nestle near thy side ? Wouldst thou me ?- And I replied,
No, not thee !
Death will come when thou art dead,
Soon, too soon-
Come soon, soon!
PONTE A MARE, PISA. Tae sun is set ; the swallows are asleep ;
The bats are fitting fast in the grey air; The slow soft toads out of damp corners creep,
And evening's breath, wandering here and there Over the quivering surface of the stream, Wakes not one ripple from its silent dream.
There is no dew on the dry grass to-night,
Nor damp within the shadow of the trees; The wind is intermitting, dry, and light ;
And in the inconstant motion of the breeze The dust and straws are driven up and down, And whirled about the pavement of the town.
Within the surface of the fleeting river
The wrinkled image of the city lay, Immoveably unquiet, and for ever
It trembles, but it never fades away ; Go to the [
] You, being changed, will find it then as now.
The chasm in which the sun has sunk is shut
By darkest barriers of enormous cloud, Like mountain over mountain huddled - but
Growing and moving upwards in a crowd, And over it a space of watery blue, Which the keen evening star is shining through.