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A voice came from the threshold stone
Oh, I defy thee, Hell, to show,
XXIII. Father, I firmly do believeI know—for death who comes for me
From regions of the blest afar,
Hath left his iron gate ajar,
Are flashing through eternity,-
Unseen, amid the revels there, Till, growing bold, he laughed and leapt
In the tangles of Love's very hair ?
TO THE RIVER
Fair River, in thy bright clear flow
Of crystal wandering water, Thou art an emblem of the glow
Of beauty, the unhidden heart
The playful maziness of art
But when within thy wave she looks,
Which glistens then and trembles, Why then the prettiest of brooks
Her worshipper resembles;
Her image deeply lies—
Of her soul-searching eyes.
The bowers, whereat, in dreams, I see
The wantonest singing birds, Are lips, and all thy melody
Of lip-begotten words.
Thine eyes, in heaven of heart enshrined,
Then desolately fall,
Like starlight on a pall.
Thy heart—thy heart !I wake and sigh,
And sleep to dream till day
Of the baubles that it may.
A DREA M.
In visions of the dark night,
I have dreamed of joy departed; But a waking dream of life and light
Hath left me broken-hearted.
That holy dream—that holy dream,
While all the world were chiding, Hath cheered me as a lovely beam
A lonely spirit guiding.