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My childhood passed ’mid radiant things, Glorious as Hope’s imaginings; Statues but known from shapes of the earth, By being too lovely for mortal birth; Paintings whose colours of life were caught From the fairy tints in the rainbow wrought; Music whose sighs had a spell like those That float on the sea at the evening’s close Language so silvery, that every word Was like the lute’s awakening chord; Skies half sunshine, and half starlight; Flowers whose lives were a breath of delight; Leaves whose green pomp know no withering; Fountains bright as the skies of our Spring; And songs whose wild and passionate line Suited a soul of romance like mine.