Thou art the wine whose drunkenness is all
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atch thee, and feed from their o’erflowing bowlsThousands who thirst for thine ambrosial dew;—Thou art the radiance which where ocean rolls Investeth it; and when the heavens are blue _285Thou fillest them; and when the earth is fairThe shadow of thy moving wings imbue Its deserts and its mountains, till they wearBeauty like some light robe;—thou ever soarestAmong the towers of men, and as soft air _290 In spring, which moves the unawakened forest,Clothing with leaves its branches bare and bleak,Thou floatest among men; and aye implorest That which from thee they should implore:—the weakAlone kneel to thee, offering up the hearts _295The strong have broken—yet where shall any seek A garment whom thou clothest not? the dartsOf the keen winter storm, barbed with frost,Which, from the everlasting snow that parts The Alps from Heaven, pierce some traveller lost _300In the wide waved interminable snowUngarmented,... ANOTHER FRAGMENT (A) Yes, often when the eyes are cold and dry,And the lips calm, the Spirit weeps withinTears bitterer than the blood of agony _305
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