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Unrolling as a chart unto my view – Tenantless cities of the desert too! Ianthe, beauty crowded on me then, And half I wish'd to be again of men."

"My Angelo! and why of them to be?        A brighter dwelling-place is here for thee –         And greener fields than in yon world above,        And woman's loveliness – and passionate love."

"But, list, Ianthe! when the air so soft    Fail'd, as my pennon'd spirit leapt aloft,    Perhaps my brain grew dizzy – but the world    I left so late was into chaos hurl'd –     Sprang from her station, on the winds apart.    And roll'd, a flame, the fiery Heaven athwart.     Methought, my sweet one, then I ceased to soar    And fell – not swiftly as I rose before,     But with a downward, tremulous motion thro'     Light, brazen rays, this golden star unto!     Nor long the measure of my falling hours,    For nearest of all stars was thine to ours –