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Arose to one's lip if one laughed or talked:

If I heard good news, you heard the same; When I woke, I knew that your breath escaped;

I could bide my time, keep alive, alert.
And alive I shall keep and long, you will see!

I knew a man, was kicked like a dog
From gutter to cesspool; what cared he

So long as he picked from the filth his prog? He saw youth, beauty and genius die,

And jollily lived to his hundredth year.
But I will live otherwise: none of such life!

At once I begin as I mean to end.
Go on with the world, get gold in its strife,

Give your spouse the slip and betray your friend! There are two who decline, a woman and I,

And enjoy our death in the darkness here.
I liked that way you had with your curls

Wound to a ball in a net behind:
Your cheek was chaste as a quaker-girl's,

And your mouth-there was never, to my mind, Such a funny mouth, for it would not shut;

And the dented chin too—what a chin! There were certain ways when you spoke, some

words That you know you never could pronounce: You were thin, however; like a bird's

Your hand seemed-some would say, the pounce Of a scaly-footed hawk—all but!

The world was right when it called you thin. But I turn my back on the world: I take

Your hand, and kneel, and lay to my lips. Bid me live, Edith! Let me slake

Thirst at your presence! Fear no slips: 'Tis your slave shall pay, while his soul endures,

Full due, love's whole debt, summum jus. My queen shall have high observance, planned

Courtship made perfect, no least line

Crossed without warrant. There you stand,
· Warm too, and white too: would this wine
Had washed all over that body of yours,

Ere I drank it, and you down with it, thus!

ABT VOGLER (After he has been extemporizing upon the Musical

Instrument of his invention) W OULD that the structure brave, the manifold

music I build, Bidding my organ obey, calling its keys to their

work, Claiming each slave of the sound, at a touch, as when

Solomon willed
Armies of angels that soar, legions of demons that

lurk, Man, brute, repti fly,-alien of end and of aim, Adverse, each from the other heaven-high, hell-deep

removed, Should rush into sight at once as he named the inef

fable Name And pile him a palace straight, to pleasure the prin

cess he loved! Would it might tarry like his, the beautiful building of

mine, This which my keys in a crowd pressed and impor

tuned to raise! Ah, one and all, how they helped, would dispart now

and now combine, Zealous to hasten the work, heighten their master

his praise!

And one would bury his brow with a wild plunge down

to hell, Burrow awhile and build, broad on the roots of

things, Then up again swim into sight, having based me my

palace well, Founded it, fearless of flame, flat on the nether

springs. And another would mount and march, like the excel

lent minion he was, Ay, another and yet another, one crowd but with

many a crest, Raising my rampired walls of gold as transparent as

glass, Eager to do and die, yield each his place to the rest: For higher still and higher (as a runner tips with fire,

When a great illumination surprises a festal nightOutlining round and round Rome's dome from space

to spire) Up, the pinnacled glory reached, and the pride of

my soul was in sight.

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In sight? Not half! for it seemed, it was certain, to

match man's birth, Nature in turn conceived, obeying an impulse as I; And the emulous heaven yearned down, made effort

to reach the earth, As the earth had done her best, in my passion, to

scale the sky: Novel splendours burst forth, grew familiar and dwelt

with mine, Not a point nor peak but found and fixed its wander

ing star; Meteor-moons, balls of blaze: and they did not pale

nor pine, For earth had attained to heaven, there was no more

near nor far.

Nay more; for there wanted not who walked in the

glare and glow, Presences plain in the place; or, fresh from the Pro

toplast, Furnished for ages to come, when a kindlier wind

should blow, Lured now to begin and live, in a house to their

liking at last; Or else the wonderful Dead who have passed through

the body and gone, But were back once more to breathe in an old world

worth their new : What never had been, was now; what was, as it shall

be anon; And what is, shall I say, matched both? for I was

made perfect too.

SO

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All through my keys that gave their sounds to a wish

of my soul, All through my soul that praised as its wish flowed

visibly forth, All through music'and me! For think, had I painted

the whole, Why, there it had stood, to see, nor the process so

wonder-worth: Had I written the same, made verse-still, effect pro

ceeds from cause, Ye know why the forms are fair, ye hear how the

tale is told; It is all triumphant art, but art in obedience to laws, Painter and poet are proud in the artist-list en

rolled:

But here is the finger of God, a flash of the will that

can, Existent behind all laws, that made them and, lo,

they are!

And I know not if, save in this, such gift be allowed

to man, That out of three sounds he frame, not a fourth

sound, but a star. Consider it well: each tone of our scale in itself is

nought; It is everywhere in the world—loud, soft, and all is

said: Give it to me to use! I mix it with two in my thought: And, there! Ye have heard and seen: consider and

bow the head!

Well, it is gone at last, the palace of music I reared; Gone! and the good tears start, the praises that

come too slow; For one is assured at first, one scarce can say that he

feared, That he even gave it a thought, the gone thing was

to go. Never to be again! But many more of the kind As good, nay, better perchance: is this your com

fort to me? To me, who must be saved because I cling with my

mind To the same, same self, same love, same God; ay,

what was, shall be. Therefore to whom turn I but to thee, the ineffable

Name? Builder and maker, thou, of houses not made with

hands! What, have fear of change from thee who art ever the

same? Doubt that thy power can fill the heart that thy

power expands? There shall never be one lost good! What was, shall

live as before; The evil is null, is nought, is silence implying sound;

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