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Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software. The text has not been manually corrected and should not be relied on to be an accurate representation of the item.
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* I would , dear love ! that I thy convert were To that strange lore— " The fair flowers dream and feel , Are glad and woful , fond and scornful are ; And mutely conscious how the unresting wheel
Of Time revolveth , and doth hourly steal Their beauty , and the heart-companionship Of their nectarious kindred , that reveal Their souls to sunlight , and with fragrant lip Drink the abundant dews that from God ' s eyelids drip . "
4 then , I never ckfie ^ anottier cul ] , To crush its being ^ and for ever end Its commune with its fellows beautiful : Ah ! no ; presence and absence never blend
A consciousness about them ; or to rend Lover from lover , in their early wooing , When even the rainbow their dew'd eyes transcend ; For our adornment merely—oh ! ' twere doing Sweet creatures bitter wrong , with our worst woes induing .
* At least , for conscience' sake , 111 not believe That they are sensible to hearted feeling ; For in no creature's being would I weave Those griefs which even now I am revealing
In tears and sighs , from lips and eyelids stealing—Sad rain and wind of my heart ' s laden cloud !—By which , if they do feel , with wounds unhealing Their parted spirits must be cleft and bow'd , Till they grew pale and sere , and wore Death's common shroud /
Then—to the lover ' s and the poet 8 warning Attend ! as to a Delphic oracle : When flowers into the grey eyes of the Morning Peer , in awaken'd beauty , from Night ' s cell ;
On the warm heart of Noontide when they dwell ; Or close in loveliness at Twilightfs feet—They have their thoughts and dreams ; and thou dost quell A gentle spirit in each blossom sweet ( Which its love-conscious mates for ever pine to
greet—And pine in vain !) which thy small hand doth sunder From its green birthplace !—Art of those that sleep In common thought , to whom there is no wonder In all the universe sublime and deep—Invisible and visible ! There weep
Dews of a Morning round us , which must break—And unveil all things o ' er which darkly sweep The night-shades of our ignorance . Awake ! And in this creed believe—for love ' s , if not truth ' s sake .
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THE LIFE OF FLOWERS .
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Citation
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Monthly Repository (1806-1838) and Unitarian Chronicle (1832-1833), Oct. 2, 1834, page 711, in the Nineteenth-Century Serials Edition (2008; 2018) ncse.ac.uk/periodicals/mruc/issues/vm2-ncseproduct2638/page/35/
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