Page:The Amulet 1833.pdf/12

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Alas! the novelty wore off: I grew, First languid, and then weary, and then turned Repining to the world I had resigned. Yet good for me the listless solitude Of my low cell: lonely are serious thoughts, And such mine were. I thought on wasted hours, And wasted gifts, with penitential fear. Day filled with its unsatisfying round Of forms and words, how precious grew the night! Then, leaning from my lattice, I could watch The pale stars growing bright in the dim air; Spoke not their mystery to my inmost soul? Found they not language in my own deep thoughts? Then was I humble in my nothingness— An atom in the path of many worlds. Then was I hopeful in the scented weed That, clustering at my casement, filled the cell With its sweet breathings. I could see a Power As watchful of the little as the great: The fragile flower was cared for as the star. Yet I had moments of despondency— Many and bitter; and remorse awoke As from a dream. At last a summons came— 'Twas from my dying father; and I went (My year's novitiate was not past) and knelt, For the first time, beside the bed of death. How my heart smote me when I saw the cheek Of my pale mother! I, her wilful child,