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n flowers throughout the happy land; But never came response, Eurydice,-- The flowers were dumb, O lost Eurydice! They would not see thee spring from Earth like them, Outshining all their fainter loveliness, And so they left me to my lorn despair; She left me lorn, O false Proserpina! And never more may I behold thee here, In Spring or Summer, O Eurydice! By day or night, O lost Eurydice! They shall not keep me from thee, O beloved! Dis shall not keep me from thee, O beloved; But I shall shake his gates in my despair, Until they open wide to let me pass; I'll take my life up like a mighty rock, And so beat breaches in the walls of Time; I'll cast existence from me like a wrestler's robes, And with my supple, naked soul throw Fate; I'll snap the shackles whose Promethean links Bind down my soul unto this narrow earth.-- Dost hear my voice dim floating to thee now, Along the waves that ripple at my feet? Thus do I come to thee, Eurydice, Through waving water-floods, Eurydice, I come, I come, beloved Eurydice! THE SCULPTOR. The dream fell on him one calm summer night, Stealing amid the waving of the corn, That waited, golden, for the harvest morn-- The dream fell on him through the still moonlight. The land lay silent, and the new mown hay Rested upon it like a dreamy sleep; And stealing softly o'er each yellow heap, The night-breeze bore sweet incense-breath away. The dew lay thick upon the unstirr'd leaves; The glow-worm glisten'd brightly as he pass'd; The thrush still chaunted, but the swallows fast Hied to their home beneath lone cottage eaves. He had been straying through the land that day, Dreaming of beauty as some dream of love; And all the earth beneath, the heaven above, In mirror'd glory on his spirit lay. And, as he went, from every sight and sound, From silence, from the sweetness in the air, From earth, from heaven, from nature everywhere, Gleam'd forth a deep dim thought and clasp'd him round. The thought oppress'd him with a weary joy, Seeking for ever for its perfect shape, That from his eager eyes would still escape, Flatter him onward--then his hopes destroy. He sought it in the bosom of the hills; He sought it in the silence of the woods, Their sunny nooks and shady solitudes; He sought it in the fountains and the rills. He watch'd the stars come faintly through the skies; And on his upturn'd brow the clear moon shone, Flo
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