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DIS ALITER VISUM;
LE BYRON DE NOS JOURS.
Stop, let me have the truth of that!
Is that all true? I say, the day
Met on a morning, friends
Did you — because I took your arm
And sillily smiled, “A mass of brass That sea looks, blazing underneath !”
While up the cliff-road edged with heath, We took the turns nor came to harm
consider 6 Now makes twice That I have seen her, walked and talked With this poor, pretty, thoughtful thing,
Whose worth I weigh: she tries to sing; Draws, hopes in time the eye grows nice;
6 Reads verse and thinks she understands ;
Loves all, at any rate, that 's great, Good, beautiful ; but much as we
Down at the Bath-house love the sea, Who breathe its salt and bruise its sands :
“ While ... do but follow the fishing-gull
That flaps and floats from wave to cave ! There's the sea-lover, fair my friend!
! What then? Be patient, mark and mend ! Had you the making of your scull?”
And did you, when we faced the church
With spire and sad slate roof, aloof From human fellowship so far,
Where a few graveyard crosses are, And garlands for the swallows' perch,
7. Did you determine, as we stepped
O’er the lone stone fence, “ Let me get Her for myself, and what 's the earth
With all its art, verse, music, worth Compared with love, found, gained, and kept?
“ Schumann 's our music-maker now ;
Has his march-movement youth and mouth? Ingres 's the modern man that paints ;
Which will lean on me, of his saints ? Heine for songs; for kisses, how?”
And did you, when we entered, reached
The votive frigate, soft aloft Riding on air this hundred years,
Safe-smiling at old hopes and fears, Did you draw profit while she preached ?
Resolving “ Fools we wise men grow!
Yes, I could easily blurt out curt Some question that might find reply
As prompt in her stopped lips, dropped eye, And rush of red to cheek and brow:
« Thus were a match made, sure and fast,
'Mid the blue weed-flowers round the mound Where, issuing, we shall stand and stay
For one more look at Baths and bay, Sands, sea-gulls, and the old church last
“A match 'twixt me, bent, wigged, and lamed,
Famous, however, for verse and worse, Sure of the Fortieth
“ And this young beauty, round and sound
As a mountain-apple, youth and truth With loves and doves, at all events With money in the Three
Cents; Whose choice of me would seem profound :
“ She might take me as I take her.
Perfect the hour would pass, alas !
An hour's perfection can't recur.
“ Then follows Paris and full time
For both to reason : Thus with us !' She 'll sigh, “Thus girls give body and soul
At first word, think they gain the goal, When 't is the starting-place they climb!
6. My friend makes verse and gets renown;
Have they all fifty years, his peers ?
Boys will become as much one day:
« «For boys say, Love me or I die!
He did not say, The truth is, youth
I'd catch youth : lend me sight and touch ! Drop heart's blood where life's wheels grate dry!
18. “ While I should make rejoinder" - (then
It was, no doubt, you ceased that least Light pressure of my arm in yours)
“I can conceive of cheaper cures For a yawning-fit o'er books and men.