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First Line: Be not so desolate
Alternate Author Name(s): A. E.


BE not so desolate
How deep the night about that soul!
Because thy dreams have flown
How fast the manacles! I brood
And the hall of the heart is empty
And recreate in my own heart
And silent as stone,
Its agony of solitude.
As age left by children

Sad and alone.


Have golden lips breathed in that dark?

And was the breath as vainly blown
Those delicate children,
As yon frail wind that trembles on
Thy dreams, still endure:
This mammoth herd of brutish stone?

All pure and lovely things

Wend to the Pure.
A kinsman of the cherubim
Sigh not: unto the fold
Chained in this pit's abysmal mire!
Their way was sure.
Sound for the rescue! Bugles, blow!
Thy gentlest dreams, thy frailest,
Gird on the armoury of fire!
Even those that were

Born and lost in a heart-beat,

Shall meet thee there.
They are become immortal In shining air.
The unattainable beauty
The thought of which was pain,
That flickered in eyes and on lips
And vanished again:
That fugitive beauty
Thou shalt attain.


The lights innumerable
That led thee on and on,
The Masque of Time ended,
Shall glow into one. It shall be with thee for ever
Thy travel done.






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