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WHERE IS THY FAVORED HAUNT?

WHERE is thy favored haunt, eter- | No sounds of worldly toil ascending

nal voice,

The region of thy choice,

there,

Mar the full burst of prayer;

Where undisturbed by sin and earth, Lone Nature feels that she may free

ly breathe, And round us and beneath

'Tis on the mountain's summit dark Are heard her sacred tones: the fit

the soul

Owns thy entire control?

and high,

When storms are hurrying by:

ful sweep

Of winds across the steep,

'Tis 'mid the strong foundations of Through withered bents — romantic

the earth,

Where torrents have their birth.

note and clear, Meet for a hermit's ear,-

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the way,

WHY SHOULD WE FAINT AND FEAR TO LIVE ALONE?

WHY should we faint and fear to live alone,

Since all alone, so heaven has willed, we die ?

Not even the tenderest heart, and

next our own,

Knows half the reasons why we smile and sigh.

Each in his hidden sphere of joy or

woe

Our hermit spirits dwell, and range apart,

Our eyes see all around in gloom or glow

Hues of their own, fresh borrowed from the heart.

And well it is for us our God should feel

Alone our secret throbbings: so our prayer

Lest thou should'st faint or May readier spring to heaven, nor

stray?

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spend its zeal

On cloud-born idols of this lower air.

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What shapeless form, half lost on high,

Half seen against the evening sky,
Seems like a ghost to glide,
And watch from Babel's crumbling
heap,

Where in her shadow, fast asleep,
Lies fallen imperial pride?

With half-closed eye a lion there
Is basking in his noontide lair

Or prowls in twilight gloom.
The golden city's king he seems,
Such as in old prophetic dreams

Sprang from rough ocean's womb. But where are now his eagle wings, That sheltered erst a thousand kings, Hiding the glorious sky

SINCE ALL THAT IS NOT HEAVEN From half the nations, till they own

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No holier name, no mightier throne? That vision is gone by.

Quenched is the golden statue's ray, The breath of heaven has blown

away

What toiling earth had piled, Scattering wise heart and crafty hand,

As breezes strew on ocean's sand,
The fabrics of a child.

Divided thence through every age
Thy rebels, Lord, their warfare wage,
And hoarse and jarring all
Mount up their heaven-assailing cries
To thy bright watchman in the skies
From Babel's shattered wall.

Thrice only since, with blended might

The nations on that haughty height
Have met to scale the heaven:
Thrice only might a seraph's look
A moment's shade of sadness brook;
Such power to guilt was given.

Now the fierce Bear and Leopard keen

Are perished as they ne'er had been, Oblivion is their home: Ambition's boldest dream and last Must melt before the clarion blast That sounds the dirge of Rome.

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WHAT shall I do with all the days I'll tell thee; for thy sake I will lay

and hours

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hold

Of all good aims, and consecrate to thee,

In worthy deeds, each moment that is told

While thou, beloved one! art far from me.

For thee I will arouse my thoughts to try

All heavenward flights, all high and holy strains;

For thy dear sake I will walk patiently

Through these long hours, nor call their minutes pains.

I will this dreary blank of absence make

A noble task-time; and will therein strive

To follow excellence, and to o'ertake More good than I have won since yet I live.

So may this doomèd time build up in

me

A thousand graces, which shall thus be thine;

So may my love and longing hallowed be,

And thy dear thought an influence divine.

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