Page:The Venetian Bracelet.pdf/69

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Then marvels that his silent lute Beneath that worldly hand is mute. —Away! these scenes are not for thee: Go dream beneath some lonely tree; Away to some far woodland spring, Dash down thy tinsel crown, and wring The scented unguents from thine hair: If thou dost hope that crown to share The laurell'd bards immortal wear; Muse thou o'er leaf and drooping flower, Wander at evening's haunted hour; Listen the stockdove's plaining song Until it bear thy soul along; Then call upon thy freed lute's strain, And it will answer thee again.