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First Line: Let not any withering fate


I
I.
Let not any withering Fate,
Let not any withering Fate,
With her all too sombre thread,
With her all too sombre thread,
Flying from the Ivory Gate,
Flying from the Ivory Gate,
Make thy soul discomforted:
Make thy soul discomforted:
From the nobler Gate of Horn,
From the nobler Gate of Horn,
Take the blessing of the morn.
Take the blessing of the morn.
Eyes bent full upon the goal,
Eyes bent full upon the goal,
Whatso be the prize of it:
Whatso be the prize of it:
Tireless feet, and crystal soul,
Tireless feet, and crystal soul,
With good heart, the salt of wit:
With good heart, the salt of wit:
These shall set thee in the clear
These shall set thee in the clear
Spirits' home and singing sphere.
Spirits' home and singing sphere.
Hush thy melancholy breath,
Hush thy melancholy breath,
Wailing after fair days gone:
Wailing after fair days gone:
Make thee friends with kindly Death,
Make thee friends with kindly Death,
That his long dominion,
That his long dominion,
With a not too bitter thrall,
With a not too bitter thrall,
Hold thee at the end of all.
Hold thee at the end of all.
Sorrow, angel of the night,
Sorrow, angel of the night,
Sorrow haughtily disdains
Sorrow haughtily disdains
Invocation by our light
Invocation by our light
Agonies, and passing pains:
Agonies, and passing pains:
Sorrow is but under pure
Sorrow is but unto pure
Cloven hearts their balm and cure.
Cloven hearts their balm and cure.
II.

And yet, what of the sorrowing years,

Their clouds and difficult event?
II
Here is a kindlier way than tears,
And yet, what of the sorrowing years,
A fairer way than discontent:
Their clouds and difficult event?
Here is a kindlier way than tears,
The passionate remembrances,
A fairer way than discontent
That wake at bidding of the air:
Fancies, and dreams, and fragrances,
The passionate remembrances,
That charmed us, when they were.
That wake at bidding of the air:
So breathed the hay, so the rose bloomed,
Fancies, and dreams, and fragrances,
That charmed us, when they were.
Ah! what a thousand years ago!
So breathed the hay, so the rose bloomed,
So long imprisoned and entombed,
Ah! what a thousand years ago!
Out of our hearts the old joys flow:
So long imprisoned and entombed,
Peace! present sorrows: lie you still!
Out of our hearts the old joys flow:
You shall not grow to memories:
The ancient hours live yet, to kill
Peace! present sorrows: lie you still!
The sorry hour, that is.
You shall not grow to memories:
The ancient hours live yet, to kill
The sorry hour, that is.






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