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'Do You REMEMBER ME?'

'Do you remember me? or are you proud?' Lightly advancing thro' her star-trimm'd crowd, Ianthe said, and looked into my eyes.

'A yes, a yes, to both: for Memory

Where you but once have been must ever be,
And at your voice Pride from his throne must rise.'

FOR AN EPITAPH AT FIESOLE

Lo! where the four mimosas blend their shade
In calm repose at last is Landor laid,

For ere he slept he saw them planted here

By her his soul had ever held most dear,

And he had lived enough when he had dried her tear.

ON LUCRETIA BORGIA'S HAIR

BORGIA, thou once wert almost too august
And high for adoration; now thou'rt dust;
All that remains of thee these plaits unfold,
Calm hair, meandering in pellucid gold.

ON HIS SEVENTY-FIFTH BIRTHDAY

I STROVE With none; for none was worth my strife,
Nature I loved, and next to Nature, Art;

I warmed both hands before the fire of life,
It sinks, and I am ready to depart.

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TO MY NINTH DECADE

To my ninth decade I have totter'd on,

And no soft arm bends now my steps to steady;
She, who once led me where she would, is gone,
So when he calls me, Death shall find me ready.
(CC) HC XLI

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DEATH STANDS ABOVE ME

DEATH stands above me, whispering low
I know not what into my ear;
Of his strange language all I know
Is, there is not a word of fear.

ON LIVING TOO LONG

Is it not better at an early hour

In its calm cell to rest the weary head,

While birds are singing and while blooms the bower,
Than sit the fire out and go starv'd to bed?

THOMAS HOOD

[1798-1845]

FAIR INES

O SAW ye not fair Ines?
She's gone into the West,
To dazzle when the sun is down,
And rob the world of rest:
She took our daylight with her
The smiles that we love best,
With morning blushes on her cheek,
And pearls upon her breast.

O turn again, fair Ines,
Before the fall of night,

For fear the Moon should shine alone,

And stars unrivall'd bright;

And blessed will the lover be

That walks beneath their light,

And breathes the love against thy cheek
I dare not even write!

Would I had been, fair Ines,

That gallant cavalier,

Who rode so gaily by thy side,
And whisper'd thee so near!
Were there no bonny dames at home,
Or no true lovers here,

That he should cross the seas to win

The dearest of the dear?

I saw thee, lovely Ines,
Descend along the shore,
With bands of noble gentlemen,
And banners waved before;
And gentle youth and maidens gay,
And snowy plumes they wore:

It would have been a beauteous dream,—
If it had been no more!

Alas, alas! fair Ines,

She went away with song,

With Music waiting on her steps,
And shoutings of the throng;

But some were sad, and felt no mirth,
But only Music's wrong,

In sounds that sang Farewell, farewell, To her you've loved so long.

Farewell, farewell, fair Ines!
That vessel never bore

So fair a lady on its deck,

Nor danced so light before,

Alas for pleasure on the sea,

And sorrow on the shore!

The smile that bless'd one lover's heart Has broken many more!

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Loop up her tresses
Escaped from the comb,
Her fair auburn tresses;
Whilst wonderment guesses
Where was her home?

Who was her father?

Who was her mother?
Had she a sister?

Had she a brother?

Or was there a dearer one
Still, and a nearer one
Yet, than all other?

Alas! for the rarity
Of Christian charity
Under the sun!

O! it was pitiful!
Near a whole city full,
Home she had none.

Sisterly, brotherly,

Fatherly, motherly

Feelings had changed:

Love, by harsh evidence,

Thrown from its eminence;

Even God's providence

Seeming estranged.

Where the lamps quiver
So far in the river,

With many a light

From window and casement,

From garret to basement,

She stood, with amazement, Houseless by night.

The bleak wind of March

Made her tremble and shiver;

But not the dark arch,

Or the black flowing river:

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