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Miscellaneous Poems.
All the fair and sunny past,
All its openness and truth,
Ever fresh and green in thee
As the moss is in the sea.
All its openness and truth,
Ever fresh and green in thee
As the moss is in the sea.
Thy little heart, that hath with love
Grown coloured like the sky above,
On which thou lookest ever,—
Can it know
All the woe
Of hope for what returneth never,
All the sorrow and the longing
To these hearts of ours belonging?
Grown coloured like the sky above,
On which thou lookest ever,—
Can it know
All the woe
Of hope for what returneth never,
All the sorrow and the longing
To these hearts of ours belonging?
Out on it! no foolish pining
For the sky
Dims thine eye,
Or for the stars so calmly shining;
Like thee let this soul of mine
Take hue from that wherefore I long,
Self-stayed and high, serene and strong,
Not satisfied with hoping—but divine.
For the sky
Dims thine eye,
Or for the stars so calmly shining;
Like thee let this soul of mine
Take hue from that wherefore I long,
Self-stayed and high, serene and strong,
Not satisfied with hoping—but divine.