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Poem by Paul Hamilton Hayne

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PENT in this common sphere of sensual shows,
I pine for beauty; beauty of fresh mien,
And gentle utterance, and the charm serene,
Wherewith the hue of mystic dream-land glows;
I pine for loving music, the repose
Of low-voiced waters, in some realm between
The perfect Adenne, and this clouded scene
Of love's sad loss, and passion's mournful throes;
A pleasant country, girt with twilight calm,
In whose fair heaven a moon of shadowy round
Wades through a fading fall of sunset rain;
Where drooping lotos-flowers, distilling balm,
Gleam by the drowsy streamlets sleep hath crown'd,
While Care forgets to sigh, and Peace hath balsamed Pain.

Paul Hamilton Hayne

Paul Hamilton Hayne's other poems:
  1. Too Oft the Poet in Elaborate Verse
  2. The Laughing Hours before Her Feet
  3. A Phantom in the Clouds
  4. O God! What Glorious Seasons Bless Thy World!
  5. A New Version of Why the RobinТs Breast Is Red

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