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erings? But palpitating, living hearts are broken For want of just these things. AS BY FIRE. Sometimes I feel so passionate a yearning For spiritual perfection here below, This vigorous frame, with healthful fervor burning, Seems my determined foe, So actively it makes a stern resistance, So cruelly sometimes it wages war Against a wholly spiritual existence Which I am striving for. It interrupts my soul's intense devotions; Some hope it strangles, of divinest birth, With a swift rush of violent emotions Which link me to the earth. It is as if two mortal foes contended Within my bosom in a deadly strife, One for the loftier aims for souls intended, One for the earthly life. And yet I know this very war within me, Which brings out all my will-power and control, This very conflict at the last shall win me The loved and longed-for goal. The very fire which seems sometimes so cruel Is the white light that shows me my own strength. A furnace, fed by the divinest fuel, It may become at length. Ah! when in the immortal ranks enlisted, I sometimes wonder if we shall not find That not by deeds, but by what we've resisted, Our places are assigned. IF I SHOULD DIE. RONDEAU. If I should die, how kind you all would grow! In that strange hour I would not have one foe. There are no words too beautiful to say Of one who goes forevermore away Across that ebbing tide which has no flow. With what new lustre my good deeds would glow! If faults were mine, no one would call them so, Or speak of me in aught but praise that day, If I should die. Ah, friends! before my listening ear lies low, While I can hear and understand, bestow That gentle treatment and fond love, I pray, The lustre of whose late though radiant way Would gild my grave with mocking light, I know, If I should die. MESALLIANCE. I am troubled to-night with a curious pain; It is not of the flesh, it is not of the brain, Nor yet of a heart that is breaking: But down still deeper, and out of sight-- In the place where the soul and the body unite-- There lies the scat of
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