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I thought that it was fancy, and I listened in my bed, And then did something speak to me — I know not
what was said; For great delight and shuddering took hold of all my
mind, And up the valley came again the music on the wind.
But you were sleeping; and I said, "It's not for them: it's mine."
And if it comes three times, I thought, I take it for a sign.
And once again it came, and close beside the windowbars,
Then seemed to go right up to Heaven and die among the stars.
So now I think my time is near. I trust it is. I know
And say to Robin a kind word, and tell him not to fret; There 's many worthier than I would make him happy
yet. If I had lived — I cannot tell—I might have been his
wife; But all these things have ceased to be, with my desire of life.
0 look! the sun begins to rise, the heavens are in a
glow; He shines upon a hundred fields, and all of them I know. And there I move no longer now, and there his light may shine — Wild flowers in the valley for other hands than mine.
0 sweet and strange it seems to me, that ere this day is
done The voice that now is speaking may be beyond the sun— Forever and forever with those just souls and true — And what is life, that we should moan? why make we such ado?
Forever and forever, all in a blessed home — And there to wait a little while till you and Effie come — To lie within the light of God, as I lie upon your breast — And the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest.
i. "Courage!" he said, and pointed toward the land;"This mounting wave will roll us shoreward soon." In the afternoon they came unto a land, In which it seemed always afternoon. All round the coast the languid air did swoon, Breathing like one that hath a weary dream. Full-faced above the valley stood the moon; And like a downward smoke, the slender stream Along the cliff to fall and pause and fall did seem.
A land of streams! some, like a downward smoke, Slow-dropping veils of thinnest lawn, did go;And some through wavering lights and shadows broke, Rolling a slumbrous sheet of foam below. They saw the gleaming river seaward flow From the inner land: far off, three mountain-tops,
Three silent pinnacles of aged snow,
Stood sunset-flushed: and, dewed with showery drops,
Up-clomb the shadowy pine above the woven copse.
in. The charmed sunset lingered low ad own In the red West: through mountain clefts the dale Was seen far inland, and the yellow down Bordered with palm, and many a winding vale And meadow, set with slender galingale; A land where all things always seemed the same! And round about the keel with faces pale, Dark faces pale against that rosy flame, The mild-eyed melancholy Lotos-eaters came.
Branches they bore of that enchanted stem,