Page:The Venetian Bracelet.pdf/199

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 Unguided sail, unmaster'd prow, Are only emblems;—What art thou?

 

brow is pale with high and passionate thoughts, That come from heaven like lightning, and consume, E'en while they brighten; youth has lost its hopes: Those sweet and wandering birds, that make its spring So happy with their music,—these are gone: All scared by one, a vulture, that doth feed Upon the life-blood of the throbbing heart— The hope of immortality!—that hope, Whose altar is the grave, whose sacrifice Is life—bright, beautiful, and breathing life. 