Part 8 (1/2)

Or dreareenery, O'er so, or was it slave, In its unknown kingdorot or cave, Some sweet shell-maiden fair?

Alas! like some old haunted palace, The silence, how profound!

Where mem'ry's drunk from death's deep chalice, And turned the chalice down

TO THE TRAVELLER

Because thy winged spirit ever craves Then e wide seas and distant lands-- To see, to know, thy burning thirst demands No sweeter drink To kneel in sainted naves For art sake; e fantastic bands Or pause to here sad Poranite waves

Ah! 'Tis to know, till every cup is drained, And passion wane in pale satiety

Then but to dare the boundless unattained,-- Thy self a world, thy thirst its history

Ah! such a world! such wash of human waves On human shores, where still the thirst enslaves

SONG TO DEATH

Ah Death! what a weakling art hten'd to death; Gay curtains where glory forsakes thee-- A straw for the clutching last breath

Where finds in religion a balreat hush and what calraded to Portals ajar!

O where is the lyric of rest--?

O where is the song of the soul--?

Unfettered, unmastered, undrest A nude and a beautiful whole

O where is thy lyric of roo of the dooht--?

Ah! cool as the night is the song The dewy fresh song ofTo a dewy unble Ungarnished, unarner for treasure of heart

But never the song that is sung-- The sweet e for the young, Or e O! Death, Where Day ever bendeth at noon For false chanting, or clutching for breath At sight of the guerdon so soon

Too great is thy prestige O! Death!

To flatter with scorn or with fright

No proht!