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TO ONE AFAR.
45
Like fragrant censers swung in air
Exhaling odor rich and rare,
Sweet flower-bells are everywhere.

Gay carols warbled wild and free
From tuneful throats in every tree
King out in wondrous harmony.

While, fair æolians in disguise
With unseen harps, the breezes rise
And chant their softest lullabies.

And with them other strains combine
That seem less human than divine,
And gladden every heart—but mine.

For everything I hear or see
Becomes dispiriting to me,
Because—it is not shared with thee.

And skies, however bright and clear,
Surcharged with gloom to me appear,
For I am sad—thou art not here.

Meek patience I impersonate,
And looking, longing, wond'ring, wait
For thy return—if soon or late.

Thy lot I know is happiness—
For thee doth Heaven delight to bless—
And my lament but selfishness.