Page:The Venetian Bracelet.pdf/118

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With bitter tears for their own vanity. Remembrance makes the poet; 'tis the past Lingering within him, with a keener sense Than is upon the thoughts of common men Of what has been, that fills the actual world With unreal likenesses of lovely shapes, That were and are not; and the fairer they, The more their contrast with existing things, The more his power, the greater is his grief. —Are we then fallen from some noble star, Whose consciousness is as an unknown curse, And we feel capable of happiness Only to know it is not of our sphere? "I have sung passionate songs of beating hearts; Perhaps it had been better they had drawn Their inspiration from an inward source.