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2. The air is damp, and hush'd, and close, As a sick man's room when he taketh repose
An hour before death ; My very heart faints and my whole soul grieves At the moist rich smell of the rotting leaves,
And the breath
Of the fading edges of box beneath, And the year's last rose.
Heavily hangs the broad sunflower
Over its grave i' the earth so chilly;
Heavily hangs the tiger-lily.
1. MYSTERY of mysteries,
Faintly smiling Adeline,
But beyond expression fair
With thy floating flaxen hair ; Thy rose-lips and full blue eyes
Take the heart from out my breast. Wherefore those dim looks of thine, Shadowy, dreaming Adeline ?
Whence that aery bloom of thine,
Like a lily which the sun Looks thro' in his sad decline,
And a rose-bush leans upon, Thou that faintly smilest still,
As a Naiad in a well,
Looking at the set of day, Or a phantom two hours old
Of a maiden past away,
Spiritual Adeline ?
What hope or fear or joy is thine ?
Do beating hearts of salient springs
Hast thou heard the butterflies
Or in stillest evenings
Or when little airs arise,
To the mosses underneath ?
Hast thou look'd upon the breath
Of the lilies at sunrise ? Wherefore that faint smile of thine, Shadowy, dreaming Adeline ?
Some spirit of a crimson rose
His curtains, wasting odorous sighs
And those dew-lit eyes of thine,
Lovest thou the doleful wind
When thou gazest at the skies? Doth the low-tongued Orient Wander from the side of the morn,
Dripping with Sabaan spice On thy pillow, lowly bent
With melodious airs lovelorn, Breathing Light against thy face, While his locks a-drooping twined
Round thy neck in subtle ring Make a carcanet of
rays, And ye talk together still, In the language wherewith Spring
Letters cowslips on the hill ? Hence that look and smile of thine,
With a half-glance upon the sky
He spake of beauty : that the dull
He spake of virtue : not the gods