Littell's Living Age/Volume 173/Issue 2233/To Philip Bourke Marston

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Sweet poet, thou of whom these years that roll

    Must one day yet the burdened birthright learn,
    And by the darkness of thine eyes discern

How piercing was the sight within thy soul; Gifted apart, thou goest to the great goal,

    A cloud-bound radiant spirit, strong to earn
    Light-reft, that prize for which loud myriads yearn

Vainly light-blest — the seer's aureole; And doth thine ear, divinely dowered to catch

    All spheral sounds in thy song blest so well,
    Still hearken for my voice's slumbering spell

With wistful love? Ah! let the Muse now snatch My wreath for thy young brows, and bend to watch

    Thy veiled transfiguring sense's miracle.