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!