Century Magazine/Volume 48/Issue 1/Minorchord

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The flowers have their bold bees to woo them;
     The brooks have their fresh rains to feed them;
The nights have their stars to o'erstrew them
     The dawns have their pure dews to bead them:
          Yet my steps go darkling,
          With but the dim sparkling
Of memory's lamp, love, to lead them!

The sea hath its waves to make sheen with;
     The winds have their music to sigh with;
The groves have their boughs to be green with;
     The birds have their fleet wings to fly with:
          But I, in my lonely
          Allegiance, have only
This deep-wounded heart, love, to die with!