Leaguered in fire . . .
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Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord:
He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored;
He hath loosed the fatal lightning of his terrible swift sword: . . .
All things within this fading world hath end,
Adversity doth still our joyes attend;
No ties so strong, no friends so dear and sweet, . . .
Whose was that gentle voice, that, whispering sweet,
Promised methought long days of bliss sincere!
Soothing it stole on my deluded ear, . . .
My heart is like a singing bird
Whose nest is in a water'd shoot;
My heart is like an apple-tree . . .
A BOAT beneath a sunny sky,
Lingering onward dreamily
In an evening of July — . . .
Break, break, break,
On thy cold gray stones, O Sea!
And I would that my tongue could utter . . .
‘Tis true, ‘tis day, what though it be?
O wilt thou therefore rise from me?
Why should we rise because ‘tis light? . . .
For God's sake hold your tongue, and let me love,
Or chide my palsy, or my gout,
My five gray hairs, or ruined fortune flout, . . .
Let it not your wonder move,
Less your laughter, that I love.
Though I now write fifty years, . . .