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And me this knowledge bolder made,
'Tis strange that those we lean on most, Those in whose laps our limbs are nursed, Fall into shadow, soonest lost :
Those we love first are taken first.
God gives us love. Something to love
This is the curse of time. Alas!
He will not smile-not speak to me
Once more. Two years his chair is seen Empty before us. That was he
Without whose life I had not been.
Your loss is rarer; for this star
Rose with you through a little arc Of heaven, nor having wandered far, Shot on the sudden into dark.
I knew your brother: his mute dust
A man more pure and bold and just
I have not looked upon you nigh,
I will not tell you not to weep.
And though my own eyes fill with dew, Drawn from the spirit through the brain, I will not even preach to you,
"Weep, weeping dulls the inward pain."
Let Grief be her own mistress still.
I will not say
Of Death is blown in every wind;"
His memory long will live alone
In all our hearts, as mournful light That broods above the fallen sun,
And dwells in heaven half the night.
Vain solace! Memory standing near
Cast down her eyes, and in her throat Her voice seemed distant, and a tear Dropt on the letters as I wrote.
I wrote I know not what. In truth,
For he too was a friend to me :
Both are my friends, and my true breast Bleedeth for both; yet it may be That only silence suiteth best.
Words weaker than your grief would make Grief more. "Twere better I should cease Although myself could almost take
The place of him that sleeps in
Sleep sweetly, tender heart, in peace:
Sleep till the end, true soul and sweet.
YOU ASK ME, WHY, THOUGH ILL AT EASE."
You ask me, why, though ill at ease,
It is the land that freemen till,
A land of settled government,
A land of just and old renown, Where Freedom broadens slowly down From precedent to precedent:
Where faction seldom gathers head,
But by degrees to fulness wrought,
Should banded unions persecute
When single thought is civil crime, And individual freedom mute;
Though Power should make from land to land The name of Britain trebly great— Though every channel of the State Should almost choke with golden sand—
Yet waft me from the harbor-mouth,
Wild wind! I seek a warmer sky,
"OF OLD SAT FREEDOM ON THE HEIGHTS."
OF old sat Freedom on the heights,
There in her place she did rejoice,
Then stept she down through town and field
Grave mother of majestic works,
From her isle-altar gazing down,
Her open eyes desire the truth.
The wisdom of a thousand years
Keep dry their light from tears;
That her fair form may stand and shine,
The falsehood of extremes !
"LOVE THOU THY LAND, WITH LOVE FAR BROUGHT.”
LOVE thou thy land, with love far brought
True love turned round on fixéd poles,