Page:The Venetian Bracelet.pdf/272

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Yet find them ready to put forth again. It does not always last; man's temper is Often forgetful, fickle, and throws down The temple he can never build again; But when it does last, and that asks for much,— A fix'd yet passionate spirit, and a mind Master of its resolves,—when that love lasts, It is in noblest natures. After years Tell how felt the influence. They never spoke: she look'd too spiritual, Too pure for human passion; and her face Seem'd hallow'd by the heaven it was so near. And days pass'd on:—it was an eve in June— How ever could it be so fair a one?— And she came not: hue after hue forsook