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Quite equal to the above is the following, entitled My Aunt :
My aunt, my dear unmarried aunt ! Long years have o'er her flown;
Holmes's Wine Song has been justly admired :
Flash out a stream of blood-red wine!
For I would drink to other days;
Seen Aaming through its crimson blaze.
But every ghost of boyhood's dream
To sleep beneath this blood-red stream.
And drank the splendours of the sun,
Is mirrored in the broad Garonne ;
That saw their hoarded sunlight shed, -
Their milk-white ankles splashed with red.
In rosy fetters prisoned fast,
The swift-winged visions of the past.
Kiss but the crystal's mystic rim,
Each shadow rends its Aowery chain,
And walks the chambers of the brain.
Here, clad in burning robes, are laid
Life's blossomed joys, untimely shed ;
We miss awhile, and call them dead.
What soil the enchanted clusters grew,
In beaded drops of fiery dew?
Here is his graphic sketch of the Ploughman :
Clear the brown path, to meet his coulter's gleam
maty marbler ist
In Thee bloom, and the names he loved to hear Have been carved for many a year
On the tome.
Cure Tencere Hermes,
Borten July 20th 1875
The swinging ploughshare circles glistening round,
This is the page whose letters shall be seen