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 :::THE SATURNIAN

H, I must follow it high and low, Tho' it leave me cold to your human   touch! Some starry sorcery made me so; And from my birth have I been such. What is it I follow so secret-lone? Over the hills and along the sea? Beauty with every seed is sown, For you, for them, for me?

Not so, by the gods! Do I not hear In the night a tender-muffled crying, Rising, falling, sinking, dying? Oh, I must follow it thro' the world!

Not so, by the gods! When the dawn-wind stirs, Rustling over the river-reeds, Trembling over the wet pastures, Shall I not follow it, whither it leads?

Oh, wild and sad, oh, wild and sweet, Is the lonely horn that I always hear, Blown from the place where all streams meet, Where all horizons disappear!

The long sea-tides bring home to port, Their ships by many a moonlit wharf,