Like Crusoe with the bootless gold we stand . . .
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To make a final conquest of all me,
Love did compose so sweet an enemy,
In whom both beauties to my death agree, . . .
Rhyme, the rack of finest wits,
That expresseth but by fits
True conceit, . . .
We deemed the secret lost, the spirit gone,
Which spake in Greek simplicity of thought,
And in the forms of gods and heroes wrought . . .
Harmonious Powers with Nature work
On sky, earth, river, lake, and sea:
Sunshine and storm, whirlwind and breeze . . .
Follow thy fair sun, unhappy shadow,
Though thou be black as night
And she made all of light, . . .
The wind blows east, the wind blows west,
And the frost falls and the rain:
A weary heart went thankful to rest, . . .
Give all to love;
Obey thy heart;
Friends, kindred, days, . . .
The world is charged with the grandeur of God.
It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;
It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil . . .
I wonder, by my troth, what thou and I
Did, till we loved? Were we not weaned till then?
But sucked on country pleasures, childishly? . . .