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Two godlike faces gazed below; Plato the wise, and large-brow'd Ve ulam,

The first of those who know.

And all those names, that in thei motion were

Full-welling fountain-heads of change Betwixt the slender shafts were bla zon'd fair

In diverse raiment strange :

Thro' which the lights, rose, amber emerald, blue,

Flush'd in her temples and her eyes And from her lips, as morn from Mem non, drew

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Is wearied of the rolling nours. In glowing health, with bound wealth,

But sickening of a vague disease You know so ill to deal with time, You needs must play such pran

Clara, Clara Vere de Vere,

If Time be heavy on your hands, Are there no beggars at your gate, Nor any poor about your lands? Oh! teach the orphan-boy to read, Or teach the orphan-girl to sew, Pray Heaven for a human heart, And let the foolish yeoman go.

THE MAY QUEEN.

You must wake and call me early, me early, mother dear, To-morrow 'ill be the happiest tim all the glad New-year; Of all the glad New-year, mother, maddest, merriest day; For I'm to be Queen o' the May, moth I'm to be Queen o' the May.

There's many a black, black eye, th

say, but none so bright as mine There's Margaret and Mary, ther Kate and Caroline :

But none so fair as little Alice in the land they say,

So I'm to be Queen o'the May, moth I'm to be Queen o' the May.

1 sleep so sound all night, mother, th I shall never wake,

If you do not call me loud when t day begins to break : But I must gather knots of flowers, a buds and garlands gay, For I'm to be Queen o' the Ma

mother, I'm to be Queen o'the Ma

As I came up the valley whom thi ye should I see,

But Robin leaning on the bridge b neath the hazel-tree?

He thought of that sharp look, mothe
I gave him yesterday,-
But I'm to be Queen o' the Ma

mother, I'm to be Queen o' the Ma He thought I was a ghost, mother, fo I was all in white,

And I ran by him without speaking like a flash of light. They call me cruel-hearted, but I can not what they say, For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother I'm to be Queen o' the May.

They say he's dying all for love, bu that can never be:

They say his heart is breaking, mother -what is that to me?

There's many a bolder lad 'ill woo me

And I'm to be Queen o' the May mother I'm to be Queen o' the May

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I did not hear the dog howl, mother, or
the death-watch beat,

There came a sweeter token when the
night and morning meet:
But sit beside my bed, mother, and put
your hand in mine,

And Effie on the other side, and I will

All in the wild March-morning I hea the angels call,

It was when the moon was setting, a the dark was over all;

The trees began to whisper, and t wind began to roll,

And in the wild March-morning heard them call my soul.

Forlying broad awake I thought of yo and Effie dear;

I saw you sitting in the house, and no longer here;

With all my strength I pray'd for bot and so I felt resign'd

And up the valley came a swell o music on the wind.

I thought that it was fancy, and I lis
ten'd in my bed,

And then did something speak to me
-I know not what was said;
For great delight and shuddering took
hold of all my mind,

And up the valley came again the
music on the wind.

But you were sleeping and I said, "It's
not for them: it's mine."

And if it comes three times, I thought,
I take it for a sign.

And once again it came, and close
beside the window-bars,
Then seem'd to go right up to Heaven
and die among the stars.

So now I think my time is near. I trust
it is. I know

The blessed music went that way my soul will have to go.

And for myself, indeed, I care not if I go to-day.

But, Effie, you must comfort her when

And say to Robin a kind word, and tell him not to fret;

There's many a worthier than I, would make him happy yet.

If I had lived-I cannot tell-I might
have been his wife;

But all these things have ceased to be,
with my desire of life.

O look! the sun begins to rise, the
heavens are in a glow;

He shines upon a hundred fields, and
all of them I know.

and
And there I move no longer now,

there his light may shine-
Wild flowers in the valley for other
hands than mine.

O sweet and strange it seems to me,
that ere this day is done,

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