HENRY CLARENCE KENDALL
Ah, the theme the sad, gray theme! Certain days are not above me, Certain hearts have ceased to love me, Certain fancies fail to move me,
Like the effluent morning dream. Head whereon the white is stealing, Heart whose hurts are past all healing,
Still to be by Mooni cool Where the water-blossoms glister, And by gleaming vale and vista Sits the English April's sister, Just to rest beneath the burning Outer world its sneers and spurning Ah, my heart my heart is yearning
Still to be by Mooni cool'
��ARTHUR WILLIAM EDGAR
O'SHAUGHNESSY
832 Ode
are the music-makers, And we are the dreamers of dreams, Wandering by lone sea-breakers,
And sitting by desolate streams; World-losers and world-forsakers,
On whom the pale moon gleams. Yet we are the movers and shakers Of the world for ever, it seems.
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