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TO THE SPIRIT OF KEATS.

GREAT soul, thou sittest with me in my

room,

Uplifting me with thy vast, quiet eyes, On whose full orbs, with kindly lustre, lies The twilight warmth of ruddy embergloom:

Thy clear, strong tones will oft bring sudden bloom

Of hope secure, to him who lonely cries, Wrestling with the young poet's agonies, Neglect and scorn, which seem a certain doom:

Yes! the few words which, like great thunder-drops,

Thy large heart down to earth shook doubtfully,

Thrilled by the inward lightning of its might,

Serene and pure, like gushing joy of light, Shall track the eternal chords of Destiny, After the moon-led pulse of ocean stops.

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there is

And a heart-tremble quivers through the | We live and love, well knowing that deep; Give me that growth which some perchance deem sleep,

Wherewith the steadfast coral-stems uprise,

Which, by the toil of gathering energies, Their upward way into clear sunshine keep,

Until, by Heaven's sweetest influences, Slowly and slowly spreads a speck of green

Into a pleasant island in the seas, Where, mid tall palms, the cane-roofed home is seen,

And wearied men shall sit at sunset's hour,

Hearing the leaves and loving God's dear power.

VIII.

TO M. W., ON HER BIRTHDAY.

MAIDEN, when such a soul as thine is born,

The morning-stars their ancient music make,

And, joyful, once again their song awake, Long silent now with melancholy scorn; And thou, pot mindless of so blest a morn,

By no least deed its harmony shalt break,

No backward step for those who feel the

bliss

Of Faith as their most lofty yearnings high:

Love hath so purified my being's core, Meseems I scarcely should be startled,

even,

To find, some morn, that thou hadst gone before;

Since, with thy love, this knowledge too was given,

Which each calm day doth strengthen more and more,

That they who love are but one step from Heaven.

X.

I CANNOT think that thou shouldst pass away,

Whose life to mine is an eternal law,
A piece of nature that can have no flaw,
A new and certain sunrise every day;
But, if thou art to be another ray
About the Sun of Life, and art to live
The debt of Love I will more fully pay,
Free from what part of thee was fugitive,
Not downcast with the thought of thee
so high,

But rather raised to be a nobler man, But shalt to that high chime thy foot-As knowing that the waiting eyes which And more divine in my humanity,

steps take,

Through life's most darksome passes unforlorn; Therefore from thy pure faith thou shalt not fall,

Therefore shalt thou be ever fair and free,

And in thine every motion musical
As summer air, majestic as the sea,'
A mystery to those who creep and crawl
Through Time, and part it from Eternity.

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My life are lighted by a purer being, And ask high, calm-browed deeds, with it agreeing.

XI.

THERE never yet was flower fair in vain,
Let classic poets rhyme it as they will;
The seasons toil that it may blow again,
And summer's heart doth feel its every ill;
Nor is a true soul ever born for naught;
Wherever any such hath lived and died,
There hath been something for true free-
dom wrought,
Some bulwark levelled on the evil side:
Toil on, then, Greatness! thou art in the
right,

However narrow souls may call thee wrong;

Be as thou wouldst be in thine own clear

sight,

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ON READING WORDSWORTH'S SONNETS
IN DEFENCE OF CAPITAL PUNISHMENT.

As the broad ocean endlessly upheaveth,
With the majestic beating of his heart,
The mighty tides, whereof its rightful
part

Each sea-wide bay and little weed re-
ceiveth,

THE hope of Truth grows stronger, day So, through his soul who earnestly be

by day;

I hear the soul of Man around me wak-Life ing,

Like a great sea, its frozen fetters breaking,

And flinging up to heaven its sunlit spray, Tossing huge continents in scornful play,

And crushing them, with din of grind. ing thunder,

That makes old emptinesses scare in won.

der;

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lieveth,

from the universal Heart doth flow, Whereby some conquest of the eternal Woe,

By instinct of God's nature, he achiev
eth:

A fuller pulse of this all-powerful beauty
Into the poet's gulf-like heart doth tide,
And he more keenly feels the glorious
duty

Of serving Truth, despised and cruci

fied,

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While she in glorious madness doth fore

cast

That perfect bud, which seems a flower full-blown

To each new Prophet, and yet always opes Fuller and fuller with each day and hour, Heartening the soul with odor of fresh hopes,

And longings high, and gushings of wide power,

Yet never is or shall be fully blown
Save in the forethought of the Eternal
One.

XIX.

THE SAME CONCLUDED.

FAR 'yond this narrow parapet of Time, With eyes uplift, the poet's soul should look

Into the Endless Promise, nor should brook

One prying doubt to shake his faith sublime;

To him the earth is ever in her prime And dewiness of morning; he can see Good lying hid, from all eternity, Within the teeming womb of sin and crime;

His soul should not be cramped by any bar, His nobleness should be so Godlike high, That his least deed is perfect as a star, His common look majestic as the sky, And all o'erflooded with a light from far, Undimmed by clouds of weak mortality.

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Spring of all sweetest thoughts, arch foe | Save there the rain in dreamy clouds

of blame,

Sower of flowers in the dusty mart,
Pure vestal of the poet's holy flame,-
This is enough, and we have done our
part

If we but keep it spotless as it came.

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doth stay,

As loath to fall out of those happy skies; Yet sure, my love, thou art most like to May,

That comes with steady sun when April dies.

XXIII.

WENDELL PHILLIPS.

HE stood upon the world's broad threshold; wide

The din of battle and of slaughter rose ; He saw God stand upon the weaker side, That sank in seeming loss before its foes: Many there were who made great haste and sold

Unto the cunning enemy their swords, He scorned their gifts of fame, and power, and gold,

And, underneath their soft and flowery words,

Heard the cold serpent hiss; therefore he went

And humbly joined him to the weaker part,

Fanatic named, and fool, yet well con

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