So thy dear eyes and thy kind lips but say--
Ere from his cerements Timon seems to flit:
"What of the reaper grim with sickle keen?"
And then the sunlight ushers in new day
And for our tasks our bodies seem more fit--
"Might of the night, unfleeing, sight unseen."
_Charles Battell Loomis_.
ALONE
Alone! Alone!
I sit in the solitudes of the moonshades,
Soul-hungering in the moonshade solitudes sit I--
My heart-lifts beaten down in the wild wind-path.
Oppressed, and scourged and beaten down are my heart-lifts.
I fix my gaze on the eye-star, and the eye-star flings its dart
upon me.
I wonder why my soul is lost in wonder why I am,
And why the eye-star mocks me,
Why the wild wind beats down my heart-lifts;
Why I am stricken here in the moonshade solitudes.
Oh! why am I what I am,
And why am I anything?
Am I not as wild as the wind and more crazy?
Why do I sit in the moonshade, while the eye-star mocks me while I
ask what I am?
Why? Why?
_Anonymous_.
LINES BY A MEDIUM
I might not, if I could;
I should not, if I might;
Yet if I should I would,
And, shoulding, I should quite!
I must not, yet I may;
I can, and still I must;
But ah! I cannot--nay,
To must I may not, just!
I shall, although I will,
But be it understood,
If I may, can, shall--still
I might, could, would, or should!
_Anonymous_.
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