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POEMS AND LYRICS.
119
XII.
Her pomp of glorious hues,
Her revelries of ripeness, her kind smile
Her songs, her peeping faces, lure awhile
With symbol-clues.
XIII.
The mystery she holds
For him, inveterately he strains to see,
And sight of his obtuseness is the key
Among those folds.
XIV.
He may entreat, aspire,
He may despair, and she has never heed.
She drinking his warm sweat will soothe his need,
Not his desire.
