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So to live is heaven : To make undying music in the world, Breathing as beauteous order that controls With growing sway the growing life of man. So we inherit that sweet purity For which we struggled, failed, and agonized With widening retrospect that bred despair. Rebellious flesh that would not be subdued, A vicious parent shaming still its child Poor anxious penitence, is quick dissolved ; Its discords, quenched by meeting harmonies, Die in the large and charitable air. And all our rarer, better, truer self, That sobbed religiously in yearning song, That watched to ease the burthen of the world, Laboriously tracing what must be, And what may yet be better—saw within A worthier image for the sanctuary, And shaped it forth before the multitude Divinely human, raising worship so To higher reverence more mixed with love-That better self shall live till human Time Shall fold its eyelids, and the human sky Be gathered like a scroll within the tomb Unread for ever.

This is life to come, Which martyred men have made more glorious For us who strive to follow. May I reach That purest heaven, be to other souls The cup of strength in some great agony, Enkindle generous ardour, feed pure love, Beget the smiles that have no crueltyBe the sweet presence of a good diffused, And in diffusion ever more intense. So shall I join the choir invisible Whose music is the gladness of the world.

GEORGE ELIOT.

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AIRLY BEACON
Airly Beacon, Airly Beacon ;

Oh the pleasant sight to see
Shires and towns from Airly Beacon,

While my love climbed up to me!
Airly Beacon, Airly Beacon ; ;

Oh the happy hours we lay
Deep in fern on Airly Beacon,

Courting through the summer's day!
Airly Beacon, Airly Beacon ; ;

Oh the weary haunt for me,
All alone on Airly Beacon,
With his baby on my knee !

C. KINGSLEY.

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THE SANDS OF DEE O Mary, go and call the cattle home,

And call the cattle home,

And call the cattle home
Across the sands of Dee';
The western wind was wild and dank with foam, 5

And all alone went she.
The western tide crept up along the sand,

And o'er and o'er the sand,

And round and round the sand, As far as eye could see.

10 The rolling mist came down and hid the land :

And never home came she. 'Oh! is it weed, or fish, or floating hair

A tress of golden hair,

A drownéd maiden's hair
Above the nets at sea ?
Was never salmon yet that shone so fair

Among the stakes on Dce.'

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They rowed her in across the rolling foam,
The cruel crawling foam,

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The cruel hungry foam,
To her grave beside the sea :
But still the boatmen hear her call the cattle home
Across the sands of Dee.

C. KINGSLEY.

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358
ODE TO THE NORTH-EAST WIND
Welcome, wild North-easter !

Shame it is to see
Odes to every zephyr ;

Ne'er a verse to thee.
Welcome, black North-easter !

O’er the German foam ;
O'er the Danish moorlands,

From thy frozen home.
Tired we are of summer,

Tired of gaudy glare,
Showers soft and steaming,

Hot and breathless air.
Tired of listless dreaming,

Through the lazy day :
Jovial wind of winter,

Turn us out to play!
Sweep the golden reed-beds;

Crisp the lazy dyke ;
Hunger into madness

Every plunging pike.
Fill the lake with wild-fowl ;

Fill the marsh with snipe ;
While on dreary moorlands

Lonely curlew pipe.
Through the black fir-forest

Thunder harsh and dry,
Shattering down the snow-flakes

Off the curdled sky.
Hark! The brave North-easter !

Breast-high lies the scent,

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On by holt and headland,

Over heath and bent. Chime, ye dappled darlings,

Through the sleet and snow. Who can over-ride you ?

35 Let the horses go! Chime, ye dappled darlings,

Down the roaring blast ;
You shall see a fox die
Ere an hour be past.

40 Go! and rest to-morrow,

Hunting in your dreams, While our skates are ringing

O'er the frozen streams. Let the luscious South-wind

15 Breathe in lovers' sighs, While the lazy gallants

Bask in ladies' eyes. What does he but soften •Heart alike and pen

?

50 'Tis the hard grey weather

Breeds hard English men. What's the soft South-wester ?

'Tis the ladies' breeze, Bringing home their trueloves

55 Out of all the seas : But the black North-easter,

Through the snow-storm hurled, Drives our English hearts of oak

Seaward round the world. Come, as came our fathers,

Heralded by thee, Conquering from the eastward,

Lords by land and sea. Come ; and strong within us

Stir the Vikings' blood; Bracing brain and sinew ; Blow, thou wind of God !

C. KINGSLEY.

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359
YOUNG AND OLD
When all the world is young, lad,

And all the trees are green ;
And every goose a swan, lad,

And every lass a queen ;
Then hey for boot and horse, lad,

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And round the world away ;
Young blood must have its course, lad,

And every dog his day.
When all the world is old, lad,
And all the trees are brown ;

10 And all the sport is stale, lad,

And all the wheels run down ;
Creep home, and take your place there,

The spent and maimed among :
God grant you find one face there,
You loved when all was young.

C. KINGSLEY.,

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O CAPTAIN! MY CAPTAIN ! O Captain ! my Captain ! our fearful trip is done, The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we

sought is won, The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all

exulting, While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim

and daring:
But O heart ! heart ! heart !
O the bleeding drops of red !
Where on the deck my Captain lies,

Fallen cold and dead.
O Captain ! my Captain ! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the

bugle trills,

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