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Cawein, Madison Julius, 1865-1914

"Myth and Romance Being a Book of Verses"


But ever thou soughtest another
Who sought thee not;
For him thy soft smile glistened--
I was forgot.
When shall my soul behold thee
As before?
When shall my heart infold thee?--
Nevermore? nevermore?


LINES AND LYRICS


_To a Wind-Flower_
I

Teach me the secret of thy loveliness,
That, being made wise, I may aspire to be
As beautiful in thought, and so express
Immortal truths to earth's mortality;
Though to my soul ability be less
Than 't is to thee, O sweet anemone.

II

Teach me the secret of thy innocence,
That in simplicity I may grow wise;
Asking from Art no other recompense
Than the approval of her own just eyes;
So may I rise to some fair eminence,
Though less than thine, O cousin of the skies.

III

Teach me these things; through whose high knowledge, I,--
When Death hath poured oblivion through my veins,
And brought me home, as all are brought, to lie
In that vast house, common to serfs and Thanes,--
I shall not die, I shall not utterly die,
For beauty born of beauty--_that_ remains.


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