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CXIV. I have not loved the world, nor the world me, But let us part fair foes; I do believe, Though I have found them not, that there may be Words which are things, - hopes which will not
deceive, And virtues which are merciful, nor weave Snares for the failing: I would also deem O'er others' grifs that some sincerly grieve; 25 That two, or one, are almost what they scem, That goodness is no name, and happiness no dream.
CXV. My daughter! with thy name this song began My daughter! with thy name thus much shall endI see thce not, I hear thee not, but none Can be so wrapt in thee; thou art the friend To whom the shadows of far years extend: Albeit my brow thou never should'st behold, My voice shall with thy future visions blend, And reach into thy heart, — when mine is cold, A token and a tone, even from thy father's mould.
to sit and see
as it is, I know not what is there, yet something like to this
CXVII. Yet, though dull Hate as duty should be taught, I know that thou wilt love me; though my name Should be shut from thee, as a spell still fraught With desolation, and a broken claim: Though the
'twere the same, I know that thou wilt love me; though to drain My blood from out thy being, were an aim, And an attainment, all would be in vain, Still thou would'st love me, still that more than life
CXVIII. The child of love, though born in bitterness, And nurtured in convulsion. Of thy sire These were the elements, and thine no less. As yet such are around thee, but thy fire Shall be more tempered, and thy hope far higher. Sweet be thy cradled slumbers! O'er the sea, And from the mountains where I now respire, Fain would I waft such blessing upon thee, As, with a sigh, I deem thou might's have been to