Page:Pocahontas, and Other Poems.djvu/152

 136 RADIANT CLOUDS AT SUNSET.

The Soul ! The Soul ! with its eye of fire, Thus, thus shall it soar when its foes expire, It shall spread its wing o'er the ills that pained, The evils that shadowed, the sins that stained ; It shall dwell where no rushing cloud hath sway, And the pageants of earth shall have melted away.

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