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438 THE GOLDEN TREASURY OF |
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The balm of gracious death now laps her round As once life gave her grace beyond her peers. Strange ! that I loved this lady of the spheres, To sleep by her at last in common ground : When kindly death hath bound Mine eyes, and sealed mine ears.
Maidens ! make a low music: merely make Silence a melody, no more. This day, She travels down a pale and lonely way: Now for a gentle comfort, let her take Such music for her sake, As mourning love can play.
Holy my queen lies in the arms of death : Music moves over her still face, and I Lean breathing love over her. She will lie In earth thus calmly, under the wind's breath — The twilight wind that saith: Rest !'. worthy found to die. |
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THE RED WIND
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ED WIND from out the East: Red Wind of blight and blood; Ah, when wilt thou have ceased Thy bitter, stormy flood ?
Red Wind from over sea,
Scourging our holy land ! What angel loosened thee
Out of his iron hand ? |
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