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Sinks, hardly conscious of the influence,
years; a company
awful note in unison With that faint utterance, which tells Of treasure sucked from buds and bells, For the pure keeping of those waxen cells; Where She, a statist prudent to confer Upon the public weal; a warrior bold, Radiant all over with unburnished gold, And armed with living spear for mortal fight;
A cunning forager That spreads no waste; - a social builder; one In whom all busy offices unite With all fine functions that afford delight, Safe through the winter storm in quiet dwells !
And is She brought within the power
Hovering until the petals stay
Tears had not broken from their source;
ODE TO LYCORIS.
1. AN age
hath been when Earth was proud Of lustre too intense To be sustained ; and Mortals bowed The front in self-defence. Who then, if Dian's crescent gleamed, Or Cupid's sparkling arrow streamed While on the wing the Urchin played, Could fearlessly approach the shade ? - Enough for one soft vernal day, If I, a Bard of ebbing time, And nurtured in a fickle clime, ‘May haunt this horned bay; Whose amorous water multiplies The flitting halcyon's vivid dyes ; And smooths her liquid breast to show These swan-like specks of mountain snow, White as the pair that slid along the plains Of Heaven, when Venus held the reins !
In youth we love the darksome lawn
But something whispers to my heart