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FRAGMENT: UNSATISFIED DESIRES.
To thirst and find no fill—to wail and wander With short uneasy steps—to pause and
ponderTo feel the blood run through the veins and
tingle Where busy thought and blind sensation
STANZA: WEALTH AND LOVE.
WEALTH and dominion fade into the mass
Of the great sea of human right and wrong, When once from our possession they must
pass; But love, though misdirected, is among The things which are immortal, and surpass All that frail stuff which will be-or which was.
My thoughts arise and fade in solitude;
day: How beautiful they were, how firm they stood, Flecking the starry sky like woven pearl !
A HATE-SONG: IMPROVISED.
A HATER he came and sat by a ditch,
And he took an old cracked lute; And he sang a song which was more of a
screech 'Gainst a woman that was a brute.
LINES TO A CRITIC.
HONEY from silkworms who can gather,
Or silk from the yellow bee ?
As soon as hate in me.
Hate men who cant, and men who pray,
And men who rail like thee; An equal passion to repay
They are not coy like me.
Or seek some slave of power and gold,
To be thy dear heart's mate; Thy love will move that bigot cold
Sooner than me thy hate.
Cannot divided be;
How should I, then, hate thee ?
POEMS WRITTEN IN 1818.
SONNET, TO THE NILE.
Month after month the gathered rains descend
blend On Atlas, fields of moist snow half depend. Girt there with blasts and meteors Tempest
dwells By Nile's aërial urn, with rapid spells Urging those waters to their mighty end. O’er Egypt's land of Memory floods are level; And they are thine, O Nile—and well thou
knowest That soul-sustaining airs and blasts of evil And fruits and poisons spring where'er thou
flowest. Beware, O Man-for knowledge must to thee Like the great flood to Egypt ever be.
PASSAGE OF THE APENNINES.
LISTEN, listen, Mary mine,
Is a mighty mountain dim and grey,
Wilt thou forget the happy hours
And leaves, the hopes that yet remain.
Forget the dead, the past ? O yet
That joy, once lost, is pain.
LIFT not the painted veil which those who live Call Life: though unreal shapes be pictured
there, And it but mimic all we would believe With colours idly spread,-behind, lurk Fear And Hope, twin destinies; who ever weave
Their shadows, o'er the chasm, sightless and
drear. I knew one who had lifted it—he sought, For his lost heart was tender, things to love, But found them not, alas! nor was there aught The world contains, the which he could approve. Through the unheeding many he did move, A splendour among shadows, a bright blot Upon this gloomy scene, a Spirit that strove For truth, and like the Preacher found it not.
INVOCATION TO MISERY.
COME, be happy !-sit by me,
Misery! we have known each other,