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Even so, throughout the midnight deep,
To feed its dying rays anew,
And kisseth their limbs o'er:
As from the waves our oar.
T. L. BEDDoes.
SONGS are sung in my mind
As pearls are formed in the sea,
Dimly those pale pearls shine,
GEORGE W. CURTIS.
QUEEN MAB'S PALACE.
If solitude hath ever led thy steps
Hung o'er the sinking sphere:
Towering like rocks of jet
Crowned with a diamond wreath.
And yet there is a moment,
Peeps like a star o'er ocean's western edge,
Then has thy fancy soared above the earth,
Yet not the golden islands
As Mab's ethereal palace could afford.
Yet likest evening's vault, that fairy hall!
As heaven, low resting on the wave, it spread
Its floors of flashing light,
Its vast and azure dome,
Its fertile golden islands
Whilst suns their mingling beamings darted
Looked o'er the immense of heaven.
NIGHT AND DEATH.
THE storm-wind is howling
Through old pines afar; The drear night is falling Without moon or star.
The roused sea is lashing
On, on through the darkness,
Where, like moaning of broken hearts,
I see her lone headstone
Who speaks through the dark night,
The dead girl is silent
I stand by her now,
The small hand that trembled
And colder than stone.
Like the white blossoms falling
So she in her beauty
Yet I loved her! I utter
Such words by her grave, As I would not have spoken Her last breath to save.
Of her love the angels
With shudders in hell!