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SHE WALKS IN BEAUTY.
SHE WALKS IN BEAUTY, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes :
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling place.
And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!
THE HARP THE MONARCH MINSTREL
THE HARP THE MONARCH MINSTREL SWEPT,
The King of men, the loved of Heaven,
Which Music hallowed while she wept
O’er tones her heart of hearts had given,
Redoubled be her tears, its chords are riven!
It softened men of iron mould,
It gave them virtues not their own;
No ear so dull, no soul so cold,
That felt not, fired not to the tone,
Till David's Lyre grew mightier than his throne!
It told the triumphs of our King,
It wafted glory to our God;
It made our gladdened vallies ring,
The cedars bow, the mountains nod;
Its sound aspired to Heaven and there abode!
Since then, though heard on earth no more,
Devotion and her daughter Love
Still bid the bursting spirit soar
To sounds that seem as from above,
In dreams that day's broad light can not remove.
IF THAT HIGH WORLD.
IF THAT HIGH WORLD, which lies beyond
Our own, surviving Love endears;
If there the cherished heart be fond,
The eye the same, except in tears
How welcome those untrodden spheres !
How sweet this very hour to die!
To soar from earth and find all fears
Lost in thy light-Eternity!