Page:Poetical Remains.pdf/34

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"Fold, fold thy wings," they cried, "and strive no more, Faint spirit, strive no more!—for thee too strong       Are outward ill and wrong, And inward wasting fires!—Thou canst not soar        Free on a starry way        Beyond their blighting sway, At Heaven's high gate serenely to adore! How shouldst thou hope Earth's fetters to unbind? O passionate, yet weak! O trembler to the wind!

"Never shall aught but broken music flow From joy of thine, deep love, or tearful woe;