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Ye are troubled, he at ease; From his slumber virtue winful Floweth outward with increase. Dare not bless him! but be blessed by his peace, and go in peace. _THE FOURFOLD ASPECT._ I. When ye stood up in the house With your little childish feet, And, in touching Life's first shows, First the touch of Love did meet,-- Love and Nearness seeming one, By the heartlight cast before, And of all Beloveds, none Standing farther than the door; Not a name being dear to thought, With its owner beyond call; Not a face, unless it brought Its own shadow to the wall; When the worst recorded change Was of apple dropt from bough, When love's sorrow seemed more strange Than love's treason can seem now;-- Then, the Loving took you up Soft, upon their elder knees, Telling why the statues droop Underneath the churchyard trees, And how ye must lie beneath them Through the winters long and deep, Till the last trump overbreathe them, And ye smile out of your sleep. Oh, ye lifted up your head, and it seemed as if they said A tale of fairy ships With a swan-wing for a sail; Oh, ye kissed their loving lips For the merry merry tale-- So carelessly ye thought upon the Dead! II. Soon ye read in solemn stories Of the men of long ago, Of the pale bewildering glories Shining farther than we know; Of the heroes with the laurel, Of the poets with the bay, Of the two worlds' earnest quarrel For that beauteous Helena; How Achilles at the portal Of the tent heard footsteps nigh, And his strong heart, half-immortal, Met the _keitai_ with a cry; How Ulysses left the sunlight For the pale eidola race Blank and passive through the dun light, Staring blindly in his face; How that true wife said to Poetus, With calm smile and wounded heart, "Sweet, it hurts not!" How Admetus Saw his blessed one depart; How King Arthur proved his mission, And Sir Roland wound his horn, And at Sangreal's moony vision Swords did bristle round like corn. Oh, ye lifted up your head, and it seemed, the while ye read, T
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