A Poet’s Fancies
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The Spring to the Summer |
The Poet sings to her Poet |
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O poet of the time to be,
My conqueror, I began for thee.
Enter into thy poet’s pain,
And take the riches of the rain,
And make the perfect year for me.
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Thou unto whom my lyre shall fall,
Whene’er thou comest, hear my call.
O keep the promise of my lays,
Take thou the parable of my days;
I trust thee with the aim of all.
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And if thy thoughts unfold from me,
Know that I too have hints of thee,
Dim hopes that come across my mind
In the rare days of warmer wind,
And tones of summer in the sea.
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And I have set thy paths, I guide
Thy blossoms on the wild hillside.
And I, thy bygone poet, share
The flowers that throng thy feet where’er
I led thy feet before I died.
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