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For, alas, he left us each retaining

Shreds of gifts which he refused in full!

Still these waste us with their hopeless straining; Still the attempt to use them proves them null.

And on earth we wander, groping, reeling;
Powers stir in us, stir and disappear.

Ah, and he, who placed our master-feeling,
Fail'd to place that master-feeling clear!

We but dream we have our wish'd-for powers, Ends we seek we never shall attain !

Ah! some power exists there, which is ours?

Some end is there, we indeed may gain?

THE PROGRESS OF POESY.

A Variation.

YOUTH rambles on life's arid mount,

And strikes the rock, and finds the vein,

And brings the water from the fount,

The fount which shall not flow again.

The man mature with labour chops
For the bright stream a channel grand,
And sees not that the sacred drops
Ran off and vanish'd out of hand.

And then the old man totters nigh,
And feebly rakes among the stones.
The mount is mute, the channel dry!
And down he lays his weary bones.

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THE LAST WORD.

CREEP into thy narrow bed,

Creep, and let no more be said.

Vain thy onset! all stands fast!
Thou thyself must break at last.

Let the long contention cease!
Geese are swans, and swans are geese.

Let them have it how they will!

Thou art tired; best be still.

They out-talk'd thee, hiss'd thee, tore thee?

Better men fared thus before thee!

Fired their ringing shot and pass'd,

Hotly charged-and broke at last.

Charge once more, then, and be dumb!
Let the victors, when they come,
When the forts of folly fall,

Find thy body by the wall!

A NAMELESS EPITAPH.

ASK not my name, O friend!

That Being only, which hath known each man

From the beginning, can

Remember each unto the end.

THE SECOND BEST.

MODERATE tasks and moderate leisure,

Quiet living, strict-kept measure

Both in suffering and in pleasure—

"Tis for this thy nature yearns.

But so many books thou readest,
But so many schemes thou breedest,
But so many wishes feedest,

That thy poor head almost turns.

And (the world's so madly jangled,
Human things so fast entangled)
Nature's wish must now be strangled
For that best which she discerns.

So it must be! yet, while leading
A strain'd life, while overfeeding,
Like the rest, his wit with reading,

No small profit that man earns,

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