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THE ISLE.

THERE was a little lawny islet
By anemone and violet,

Like mosaic, paven:
And its roof was flowers and leaves
Which the summer's breath enweaves,
Where nor sun nor showers nor breeze
Pierce the pines and tallest trees,

Each a gem engraven.
Girt by many an azure wave
With which the clouds and mountains pave

A lake's blue chasm.

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A GLORIOUS people vibrated again
Alas ! good friend, what profit can you see
And like a dying lady, lean and pale.
A pale dream came to a Lady fair
A portal as of shadowy adamant
Arethusa arose
Ariel to Miranda. – Take
Arise, arise, arise !
Art thou pale for weariness.
A Sensitive Plant in a garden grew
Away! the moor is dark beneath the moon
Before those cruel Twins, whom at one birth.
Best and brightest, come away !
Camelions feed on light and air
Come, be happy !-sit by me
Death is here and death is there
“Do you not hear the Aziola cry?"
Earth, ocean, air, beloved brotherhood !
Far, far away, O ye.
From the forests and highlands
Good night ? ah! no; the hour is ill
Hail to thee, blithe spirit !
“ Here lieth One whose name was writ on water

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Fer price here as we parted
Homer som si who can gather.
How wandert is Deat.
Issan irens ai thee.
Iringési svars be the stag Sowers
I dreamed 2 * I vadered by the way
I izar bisses. gece saden
Isored -alas! care is love
I met a traveüer from a ziqze land
I pant toe the music which is divine.
I rode one eresz w Count Maddalo
I stood was the day sosterred
It Seth, gazing on the midnight sky
It was a bright and cheerfal afternoon
I weep for Adonais - te is dead:
Lift not the painted real which those who live
Like the ghost of a dear friend dead.
Listea, listen, Mary mine
Madonna, wherefore hast thou sent to me
Many a green isle needs must be .
Mine eyes were dim with tears unshed
Music, when soft voices die . .
My lost William, thou in whom
Nor happiness, nor majesty, nor fame
Now the last day of many days
Oh, world! oh, life! oh, time!
O Mary dear, that you were here
One word is too often profaned
Orphan hours, the year is dead
0! there are spirits of the air . .
O thou, who plumed with strong desire
O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being
Palace-roof of cloudless nights! ...
Poet of Nature, thou hast wept to know

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Rarely, rarely, comest thou
Rough wind, that moanest loud
Sacred Goddess, Mother Earth
She left me at the silent time
Sleep, sleep on! forget thy pain
Summer was dead, and autumn was expiring
Sweet Spirit ! Sister of that orphan one
Swifter far than summer's flight
Swiftly walk over the western wave .
Tell me, thou star, whose wings of light
That time is dead for ever, child .
The awful shadow of some unseen Power
The billows on the beach are leaping around it
The cold earth slept below
The everlasting universe of things
The fiery mountains answer each other
The flower that smiles to-day
The fountains mingle with the river
The golden gates of Sleep unbar .
The keen stars were twinkling .
The odour from the flower is gone
The pale, the cold, and the moony smile
There late was One within whose subtle being
There was a little lawny islet
The rose that drinks the fountain dew
The serpent is shut out from paradise
The sleepless Hours who watch me as I lie
The spider spreads her webs, whether she be
The sun is set; the swallows are asleep
The sun is warm, the sky is clear .
The warm sun is failing, the bleak wind is wailing .
The waters are flashing
The wind has swept from the wide atmosphere .
They die — the dead return not — Misery

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Thou art fair, and few are fairer
Thus to be lost and thus to sink and die
Unfathomable Sea! whose waves are years
We are as clouds that veil the midnight moon
We meet not as we parted
We strew these opiate flowers .
What! alive and so bold, oh earth?.
When passion's trance is overpast
When the lamp is shattered .
Where art thou, beloved To-morrow?
Wild, pale, and wonder-stricken, even as one
Wilt thou forget the happy hours. .
Ye hasten to the dead! What seek ye there
Yet look on me - take not thine eyes away

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CHISWICK PRESS :--C. WHITTINGHAM, TOOKS COURT,

CHANCERY LANE.

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