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'tis the whole world whereon they lie the rocky pastures hung on high shelve off upon an empty sky
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sigismund hath ricked the hay he sitteth at close o' a sultry day under his mulberry boughs at ease
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faint as the light of stars and wan as snow at night when the moon is gone it is the white-witch risen once more
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the white-witch that tempted of yore so utterly doth substance lack you may breathe her nearer and breathe her back
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soft her eyes her speech full clear 'hail thou sigismund my fere bargain with me yea or nay
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yea the good be all thine own for now will i advance thy day and yet will leave the night alone
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though the highest heaped on me trouble yet the same should be welcomer than weal from thee
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sigismund show us the boy is he safe and his mother sigismund ' dreaming he falls into laughter and wakes
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from roofs and oriels high women looked down men maidens children and a fierce white sun smote blinding splinters from all spears aslant
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he raves fool thou'lt hear more of this anon
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but none did question me a beldame old kind heedless of my sayings tended me
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father and mother mother and father kind so young so innocent had ye no ruth no fear that ye did bring her to her doom
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parted in hiding some other in thrall father and mother mother and father kind it may be yet ye know not this not all
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but after pause i felt a hand let down that rested kindly firmly a man's hand upon my shoulder there was cheer in it
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then took a key opened and crying 'delia delia my sweetheart i am come i am come i darted forward and he locked us in
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but for that other while she stood appeased for cruel parting past locked in mine arms i had been glad expecting a good end
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there was a day when to the wilderness my great forerunner from his thrall sent forth sad messengers demanding art thou he
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how could i hold the power and want the will or want the love that pang was his and mine
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one drew i to the opening on it set my delia kneeled upon its arm laid mine and prayed to god and prayed of her
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truly unless my soul i would have bound with false oaths difficult innumerous strong way was not left me to get free
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but now said she i am happy i have seen the place where i am going
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pray you make haste i know not haste he said i was not fashioned to be thrall of time
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the weird pathetic scarlet of day dawning more kin to death of night than birth of morn peered o'er yon hill bristling with spires of pine
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i knew this man for him who spoke with me letting me see my delia i looked up
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am i a fiend no he was good to me almost he placed his life in my hand
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she is no mother of mine she slew my love what answer 'peace peace thou art hard on me
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but god is greater than the church i hope he shall not for that he loved men lose god
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i have no vision but where vision fails faith cheers and truly truly there is need the god of this world being so unkind
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i cannot fathom them there is not time so quickly men condemned me to this cell
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and now he knows i would believe e'en so as pleaseth him an there was time to learn or certitude of heart but time fails time
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he knoweth also 't were a piteous thing not to be sure of my love's welfare not to see her happy and good in that new home
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white ashes and a waft of vapour i to flutter on before the winds no no
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and yet for ever ay my flesh shall hiss and i shall hear 't dreadful unbearable
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i have waked long and cannot hold my thoughts upon th' event they slip they wander forth
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you tremble alas and alas you heard bad news from the town 'only one short half hour to tell it my poor courage fails
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and the time is come ronald knows nothing your father will go as the shadow fades from its place will he and be seen no more 'there 'll be time to think to-morrow and after but to-day no
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now scarlet o look overcoming the blue both lake and sky while the waterfalls waver like smoke then leap in and are not
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ah here is your ring see i draw it off it must not be mine put it on love if but for the moment and listen to me
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you might give your name to my father's child ' 'my father's name ay
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i clomb full high the belfry tower up to yon arrow-slit up and away i said 'let me look on my heart's fair flower
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my care she knoweth not no nor the cause white rose red rose about her hung and i aloft with the doves and the daws
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the pity of it love's a rover the last word said and all over
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quoth the brown bee 'in thy white wear four thou art fair
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but as for me i ' quoth the bee 'never am fair
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the little ones care not and i fare not amiss with thee
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ay thou full fain in the soft rain shalt sing again
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a fair wife making her moan despised forsaken her good days o'er seven no more
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to these add thick espaliers where the bullfinch came to strew much budding wealth and was not chid
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an all-sufficient world and as it seems an undiscovered world so very few the folk that come to look
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and so the world was sweet and it was strange sweet as a bee-kiss to the crocus flower surprising fresh direct but ever one
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whate'er she wanted wanted all o how 't was poignant her rich voice not like a bird's
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could she not dwell content and let them be that they might take their pleasure in the town for no she was not poor witness the pence
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but now they closed the shops the wild clear voice was still the beggars moved away where was their home
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white as white butterflies that each one dons her face their wide white wings to shade withal many moon-daisies throng the water-spring
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while couched in rising barley titlarks call and bees alit upon their martagons do hang a-murmuring a-murmuring
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may be their plaint when we shall meet again and make our peace with them the sea of life find flowing full nor ought or lost or vain
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shall the vague hint whereof all thought is rife the sweet pathetic guess indeed come true and things restored reach that great residue
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to stay my pleading 'take me to church and give me my ring 'you should have spoken before ' he had sighed when i prayed him so for his heart was sick for himself and me and this bitter thing
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but spare me the ending i did not wait to be quite cast away i left him asleep and the bare sun rising shone red on my gown
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look back they must and show thee thy fair past or choosing thy to-day they may but chant as they behold
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it may be god's first work is but to breathe and fill the abysm with drifts of shining air that slowly slowly curdle into worlds
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go up go mark the whiteness of the snow thy faith is not thy saviour not thy god though faith waste fruitless down a desert old
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then straightway flashes up athwart the words and if i be a son i am very far from my great father's house i am not clean
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ay he shall come in truth to visit thee and thou shalt mourn to him unclean unclean but never more i will to have it so
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from henceforth thou shalt learn that there is love to long for pureness to desire a mount of consecration it were good to scale
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this that i bear what is it me no less it binds i cannot disenslave my soul
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for even thus it is with them: the day waxeth to wane anon and a long night leaves the dark heart unsatisfied with stars
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my want is god's desire to give he yearns to add himself to life and so for aye make it enough
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hard lines it gives them cold and dirt abhorred hunger and nakedness in lieu of love and blows instead of care
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with that his hand he laid upon a latch and lifted it looked in full quietly and entered straight
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now in that town there was an ancient church a minster of old days which these had turned to parish uses: there the curate served
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and when the verger gave he moved with him toward the door distraught then shut him out and locked himself within the church alone
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my heart is darkened and unclean ah me to be a man and yet to tremble so
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till the strong angels pitiless and stern but to them loving ever sweep them in by armsful to the unapproachable fold
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i would fain said he have heard some more and wilt thou go
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and straight the little child put forth his hand and touched him master master hush
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the curate murmured when he came again to himself and looked about him this is strange
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there lieth at my feet frail white and dead the sometime beggar he is happy now
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there must be something wrong look to it: let us mend our ways farewell
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a thought from his heart doth reach to hers come down o lady to me
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behold him with the flock he wons along yon grassy lea
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oh well is me she saith when day draws on to eventide
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my shepherd lord i see him not but he will come again
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while he slumbered who can answer for what dreams they may have brought him when at midnight all was still
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father mother must you leave him on his bed but not to slumber
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surely no i will be silent in your soul is no reflection of the care that burdens mine
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is it so my little henry are we set so far asunder who were wont to be so near
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be thou near each chastened spirit for its course and conflict nerving let thy voice say father mother lo thy treasures live above
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then by one man's intercession standing clear from their transgression father mother you shall meet them fairer than they were before ay for ever evermore
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let her rapt dreamy smile the wondering heart beguile that almost thinks to hear a calm contented sigh
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what trance-like peace is shed on her reclining head and e'en on listless feet what languor of repose
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hearing of that blest shore she thinks on earth no more contented to forego this wintry land
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she has nor thought nor care but to rest calmly there and hold the snowdrops pale that blossom in her hand
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the young lips seem to say i have wept much to-day and felt some bitter pains but they are over now
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what is the world it is a waiting place where men put on their robes for that above
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what is the new world 'tis a father's face beholden of his sons the face of love
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o night of nights o night desired of man so long
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the waits of heaven to hear oh what it must have been
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then wilt thou wipe away our tears and comfort in th' all-hallow'd spheres them that weep now
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calm lie the desert pools in a fair wilderness wind-shaken moves the reed so moves his voice the soul sick folk surprised of joy wax when they hear it whole
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