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Ulysses' chances re-create ?
When, heralding life's every phase,
There glowed a goddess-veiling haze,
A plenteous, forewarning grace,
Like that more tender dawn that flies
Before the full moon's ample rise?
Methinks thy parting glory shines
Through yonder grove of singing pines;
At that elm-vista's end I trace
Dimly thy sad leave-taking face,
Eurydice! Eurydice !

The tremulous leaves repeat to me
Eurydice! Eurydice!

No gloomier Orcus swallows thee
Than the unclouded sunset's glow;
Thine is at least Elysian woe;
Thou hast Good's natural decay,
And fadest like a star away
Into an atmosphere whose shine
With fuller day o'ermasters thine,
Entering defeat as 't were a shrine ;
For us,
we turn life's diary o'er
To find but one word, - Nevermore.

SHE CAME AND WENT.

As a twig trembles, which a bird
Lights on to sing, then leaves unbent,
So is my memory thrilled and stirred;-
I only know she came and went.

As clasps some lake, by gusts unriven,
The blue dome's measureless content,
So my soul held that moment's heaven;-
I only know she came and went.

As, at one bound, our swift spring heaps The orchards full of bloom and scent, So clove her May my wintry sleeps ;

I only know she came and went.

An angel stood and met my gaze,
Through the low doorway of my tent;
The tent is struck, the vision stays;
I only know she came and went.

O, when the room grows slowly dim,
And life's last oil is nearly spent,
One gush of light these eyes will brim,
Only to think she came and went.

THE CHANGELING.

I HAD a little daughter,

And she was given to me To lead me gently backward

To the Heavenly Father's knee,

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She had been with us scarce a twelvemonth,

And it hardly seemed a day, When a troop of wandering angels

Stole my little daughter away; Or perhaps those heavenly Zingari

But loosed the hampering strings, And when they had opened her cagedoor,

My little bird used her wings.

But they left in her stead a changeling,
A little angel child,

That seems like her bud in full blossom,
And smiles as she never smiled:
When I wake in the morning, I see it
Where she always used to lie,
And I feel as weak as a violet

Alone 'neath the awful sky.

As weak, yet as trustful also;

For the whole year long I see All the wonders of faithful Nature Still worked for the love of me ; Winds wander, and dews drip earthward, Rain falls, suns rise and set, Earth whirls, and all but to prosper

A poor little violet.

This child is not mine as the first was,

I cannot sing it to rest,

I cannot lift it up fatherly

And bliss it upon my breast;

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The wild, free woods make no man halt or blind;

Cities rob men of eyes and hands and feet,

Patching one whole of many incom. plete;

The general preys upon the individual mind,

And each alone is helpless as the wind.

Each man is some man's servant; every soul

Is by some other's presence quite discrowned;

Each owes the next through all the imperfect round,

Yet not with mutual help; each man is his own goal,

And the whole earth must stop to pay him toll.

Here, life the undiminished man demands;

New faculties stretch out to meet new wants;

What Nature asks, that Nature also grants;

Here man is lord, not drudge, of eyes and feet and hands,

And to his life is knit with hourly bands.

Come out, then, from the old thoughts and old ways,

Before you harden to a crystal cold Which the new life can shatter, but not mould;

Freedom for you still waits, still, looking backward, stays,

But widens still the irretrievable

space.

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But for the Oppressed, their darkness | And twined with golden threads his

and their woe,

Their grinding centuries, what Muse

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futile snare,

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Ah! while the tyrant deemed it still The afar,

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Rain, lark-like, her fancies, His dreaming hands wander Mid heart's-ease and pansies; "T is a dream! 'T is a vision!' Shrieks Mammon aghast; "The day's broad derision Will chase it at last; Ye are mad, ye have taken A slumbering kraken

For firm land of the Past!" Ah! if he awaken,

God shield us all then,
If this dream rudely shaken
Shall cheat him again!

IX.

Since first I heard our North-wind

blow,

Since first I saw Atlantic throw

On our grim rocks his thunderous

snow,

I loved thee, Freedom; as a boy
The rattle of thy shield at Marathon

Did with a Grecian joy
Through all my pulses run;

But I have learned to love thee now Without the helm upon thy gleaming brow,

A maiden mild and undefiled Like her who bore the world's redeeming child;

And surely never did thine altars
glance

With purer fires than now in France;
While, in their clear white flashes,

Wrong's shadow, backward cast,
Waves cowering o'er the ashes

Of the dead, blaspheming Past, O'er the shapes of fallen giants, His own unburied brood, Whose dead hands clench defiance

At the overpowering Good : And down the happy future runs a flood Of prophesying light;

It shows an Earth no longer stained with blood,

Blossom and fruit where now we see the bud

Of Brotherhood and Right.

ANTI-APIS.

PRAISEST Law, friend? We, too, love it much as they that love it best;

'T is the deep, august foundation, where. on Peace and Justice rest;

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