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Better to me the meanest weed

That blows upon its mountain, The vilest herb that runs to seed

Beside its native fountain.

And I must work thro' months of toil,

And years of cultivation,
Upon my proper patch of soil

To grow my own plantation.
I 'll take the showers as they fall,

I will not vex my bosom:
Enough if at the end of all

A little garden blossom.

ST. AGNES.

I.

DEEP on the convent-roof the snows

Are sparkling to the moon:
My breath to heaven like vapour goes :

May my soul follow soon!
The shadows of the convent-towers

Slant down the snowy sward,
Still creeping with the creeping hours
That lead me to my

Lord :
Make Thou my spirit pure and clear

As are the frosty skies,
Or this first snowdrop of the year

That in my bosom lies.

II.

As these white robes are soiled and dark,

To yonder shining ground;
As this pale taper's earthly spark,

To yonder argent round;
So shows my soul before the Lamb,

My spirit before Thee;
So in mine earthly house I am,

To that I hope to be.
Break up the heavens, O Lord! and far,

Thro' all yon starlight keen,
Draw me, thy bride, a glittering star,

In raiment white and clean.

III.

He lifts me to the golden doors;

The flashes come and go;
All heaven bursts her starry floors,

And strows her lights below,
And deepens on and up! the gates

Roll back, and far within For me the Heavenly Bridegroom waits,

To make me pure of sin.

The sabbaths of Eternity,

One sabbath deep and wide A light upon the shining sea

The Bridegroom with his bride!

SIR GALAHAD.

I.

of men,

heart is pure.

My good blade carves the casques

My tough lance thrusteth sure,
My strength is as the strength of ten,
Because

my
The shattering trumpet shrilleth high,

The hard brands shiver on the steel, The splinter'd spear-shafts crack and fly,

The horse and rider reel:
They reel, they roll in clanging lists,

And when the tide of combat stands,
Perfume and flowers fall in showers,

That lightly rain from ladies' hands.

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