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BY THE FIRESIDE.
Is all our fire of shipwreck wood,
Oak and pine ?
The dim, dead woe
I take mine.
A ruddy shaft our fire must shoot
O’er the sea :
Drenched and stark,
From their barkAnd envy, gnash their teeth for hate O’ the warm safe house and happy freight
— Thee and me?
Spare the curse !
Rot and rust,
Run to dust,
That is worse !
Who lived here before us two ?
Old-world pairs !
Watch the man
With whom began Love's voyage full-sail,—(now, gnash your teeth!) When planks start, open hell beneath
IN THE DOORWAY.
The swallow has set her six young on the rail,
And looks sea-ward :
To the leeward, -
wind : “ Good fortune departs, and disaster 's behind,” — Hark, the wind with its wants and its infinite wail !
Our fig-tree, that leaned for the saltness, has furled
Her five fingers,
Where there lingers
stake! My heart shrivels up, and my spirit shrinks curled.
Yet here are we two; we have love, house enough,
With the field there,
Though it yield there,
But why must cold spread ? but wherefore bring change
To the spirit,
ALONG THE BEACH.
I will be quiet and talk with you,
And reason why you are wrong:
What has come of it all along ?
For a world to me, and more;
In what was mere earth before.
Yes, earth-yes, mere ignoble earth!
Now do I mis-state, mistake ? Do I wrong your weakness and call it worth ? Expect all harvest, dread no dearth,
Seal my sense up for your sake ?