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To where he breathed his latest breath,

That City. All her splendour seems

No livelier than the wisp that gleams On Lethe in the eyes of Death.

Let her great Danube rolling fair

Enwind her isles, unmark'd of me :

I have not seen, I will not see Vienna; rather dream that there,

A treble darkness, Evil haunts

The birth, the bridal; friend from


Is oftener parted, fathers bend Above more graves, a thousand wants

My love has talk'd with rocks and trees;

He finds on misty mountain-ground

His own vast shadow glory.crown'd; He sees himself in all he sees. Two partners of a married life

I look'd on these and thought of thee

In vastness and in mystery, And of my spirit as of a wise. These two — they dwelt with eye on eye,

Their hearts of old have beat in tune,

Their meetings made December June, Their every parting was to die. Their love has never past away;

The days she never can forget

Are earnest that he loves her yet,
Whate'er the faithless people say.
Her life is lone, he sits apart,

He loves her yet, she will not weep,

Tho' rapt in matters dark and deep He seems to slight her simple heart. He thrids the labyrinth of the mind,

He reads the secret of the star,

He seems so near and yet so far, He looks so cold: she thinks him kind. She keeps the gift of years before,

A wither'd violet is her bliss :

Gnarr at the heels of men, and prey

By each cold hearth, and sadness


Her shadow on the blaze of kings: And yet myself have heard him say,

That not in any mother town

With statelier progress to and fro

The double tides of chariots flow By park and suburb under brown

Of lustier leaves; nor more content,

He told me, lives in any crowd,
When all is gay with lamps, and

loud With sport and song, in booth and


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What profit lies in barren faith,

сх. . And vacant yearning, tho' with might

To scale the heaven's highest height, Thy converse drew us with delight, Or dive below the wells of Death?

The men of rathe and riper years :

The feeble soul, a haunt of fears, What find I in the highest place,

Forgot his weakness in thy sight. But mine own phantom chanting hymns?

On thee the loyal-hearted hung, And on the depths of death there The proud was half disarm'd of swims

pride, The reflex of a human face.

Nor cared the serpent at thy side

To flicker with his double tongue. I'll rather take what fruit may be

Of sorrow under human skies: The stern were mild when thou wert by, 'Tis held that sorrow makes us The flippant put himself to school wise,

And heard thee, and the brazen fool Whatever wisdom sleep with thee. Was soften'd, and he knew not why;


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