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ong is in our hearts, we hear it night and day, As the deep tides rise and fall: _O, Death will never find us in the heart of the wood, While the hours and the years roll by!_ We have heard it, we have heard it, but we have not understood, We must wander on together, you and I. The wind may beat upon us, the rain may blind our eyes, The leaves may fall beneath the winter's wing; But we shall hear the music of the dream that never dies, And we shall know the secret of the Spring. We shall know how all the blossoms of evil and of good Are mingled in the meadows of the sky; And then--if Death can find us in the heart of the wood-- We shall wander on together, you and I. ART (IMITATED FROM DE BANVILLE AND GAUTIER) I Yes! Beauty still rebels! Our dreams like clouds disperse: She dwells In agate, marble, verse. No false constraint be thine! But, for right walking, choose The fine, The strict cothurnus, Muse. Vainly ye seek to escape The toil! The yielding phrase Ye shape Is clay, not chrysoprase. And all in vain ye scorn That seeming ease which ne'er Was born Of aught but love and care. Take up the sculptor's tool! Recall the gods that die To rule In Parian o'er the sky. For Beauty still rebels! Our dreams like clouds disperse: She dwells In agate, marble, verse. II When Beauty from the sea, With breasts of whiter rose Than we Behold on earth, arose. Naked thro' Time returned The Bliss of Heaven that day, And burned The dross of earth away. Kings at her splendour quailed. For all his triple steel She haled War at her chariot-wheel. The rose and lily bowed To cast, of odour sweet A cloud Before her wandering feet. And from her radiant eyes There shone on soul and sense The skies' Divine indifference. O, mortal memory fond! Slowly she passed away Beyond The curling clouds of day. _Return_, we cry, _return_, Till in the sadder light We learn That she was infinite. The Dream that from the sea With breasts of whiter rose Than we Behold on earth, arose. III Take up the sculptor's tool! Becall the dreams that
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