Part 3 (2/2)

Sculptors have carved for us stories in stone,-- Spirits of Gods fro unknown, Still have they sought for the infinite being, Calling it Beauty,--upbuilding its throne

And this is the guerdon each bears to his toladdest ”Sluht hast thou wraught so enduring as doom”

Painters have drawn for us -- Piglory divines, Laurelled, or stultified canvas adorning; Toiled for us, drunk for us bitterest wines, And this is the guerdon each bears to his toladdest ”Sluht hast thou drawn so enduring as doo, Aye, they have sung for us, limn'd for us, carved for us

Laurell'd our fortune, and lightened our wrong-- Still have they dreamed for us, toiled for us, starved for us-- We are their passion's uerdon each bears to his toladdest, ”Sluht hast thou sung so enduring as doom”

A SONG

What is so rare as a pearly cloud, With a burning sun behind it?

And this is the jewel I wear on my heart, With a dreaht fro to find it

What is so sweet as the song of a bird, That wakens the fancy that hears it?

And this is the music I hear in my heart Whose heaven enspheres it-- This is the heaven you sought frolad as the heart of a child, That gambols as careless as Maytime?

And this is the pleasure I hold to ht fro the playtime

TO X

Boast not, poor man, that thou hast measured time, And named it feeble seven thousand years, Lest all the lore and wit of all thy seers Must brand thee fool, and name thy folly _crime_

I say that I have seen an eon's rime Upon thy father's head, and bitter tears, Quintillions old And countless fears, Remembered from an old world's mapless clime

Nor call thy folly old,--'twas surely born When thou didst cease to think Thou hast a child, Whose beauty brands thee for a thing forsworn

Leave thou its tender reason undefiled!

For shalory, Upon an olden tale, a useless allegory!

ON A FESTAL NIGHT

Above the city hangs a lihter's laden festal board: Thou seest the lover fondling his adored-- Thou hearestof her hair