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A liberal worlding, gay philosopher Art thou that lift'st thy young and yellow head O'er the dim burial of the scarce-cold dead, Building above thy brother's sepulchre A home of love, that sense might almost err, Dreaming thine end therein to woo and wed The flower-haired earth forever. Yet the red In yonder West may well such dreams deter! Yes, thou all-hail'd to-day, whose outstretched hand Scatters loose riches on a bankrupt land Even though thou art but a leaf from off the tree Of yellowing time;--a grain of glistening sand, Dashed from the waters of that unsailed sea Where thou to-night shall sink, and I as soon may be. - [Today] Glass antique! 'twixt thee and Nell Draw we here a parallel! She, like thee, was forced to bear All reflections, foul or fair. Thou art deep and bright within, Depths as bright belong'd to Gwynne; Thou art very frail as well, Frail as flesh is,--so was Nell. - Nell Gwynne's Looking Glass (st. 1) [Comparison : Frailty] Pleasures lie thickest where no pleasures seem; There's not a leaf that falls upon the ground but holds some joy of silence or of sound, Some sprite begotten of a summer dream. - Sonnet VII--Hidden Joys [Pleasure]
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