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O my songs! whose winsome measures Filled my heart with secret rapture !
Children of my golden leisures 1
Must even your delights and pleasures
Fade and perish with the capture ?
Fair they seemed, those songs sonorous, When they came to me unbidden;
Voices single, and in chorus,
Like the wild birds singing o'er us
Disenchantment l Disillusion 1
Come at last to this conclusion,
Jarring discord, wild confusion,
Lassitude, renunciation ?
Not with steeper fall nor faster,
Not through brighter realms nor vaster,
In swift ruin and disaster,
Icarus fell with shattered pinions !
Sweet Pandora! dear Pandora!
Coy as Thetis, fair as Flora,
Beautiful as young Aurora,
If to win thee is to hate thee P
No, not hate thee! for this feeling
Is but passionate appealing,
A prophetic whisper stealing
O'er the chords of our existence.
Him whom thou dost once enamour,
In life's discord, strife, and clamor,
Still he feels thy spell of glamour;
Him of Hope thou ne'er bereavest.
Weary hearts by thee are lifted,
Clouds of fear asunder rifted,
Truth from falsehood cleansed and sifted,
Lives, like days in summer, lengthened
Therefore art thou ever dearer,
For thou makest each mystery clearer,
And the unattained seems nearer,
When thou fillest my heart with fever!
Muse of all the Gifts and Graces !
There are ampler realms and spaces,
Where no foot has left its traces:
Let us turn and wander thither