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ASPIRATION.


O that my songs were sweet!
Sweet as the voice of bird or breath of rose,
Then would I lay them at His feet,
From whom all sweetness flows.

O that some sudden breeze
Might sweeping cross my lyre, that once awoke
The solemn murmurs of the cedar trees,
Where man with angels spoke!

That once the living coal
Upon my lips, within my heart might lie,
Within the secret chambers, where my soul
Hath stored its imagery.

That once the fire would break
While I am musing 'mid the fancies lone
That I have garnered, and Heaven's Lightning make
The sacrifice its own!