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Passed close to me; and every lady bowed
A little from it's side without a word;
And swept my lids with breathless lips serene,
As Alan's mouth was stooped to by a queen.

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Juvat ire

per ipsum
Aera, et immenso spatiantem vivere cælo.

We take our pleasure through the very air,
And breathing the great heav'n, expatiate there.

In this poetic corner
With books about and o'er us,

With busts and flowers,

And pictured bowers,
And the sight of fields before us ;
Why think of these fatalities,
And all their dull realities?

'Tis fancies now must charm us;

Nor is the bliss ideal,

For all we feel,

In woe or weal,
Is, while we feel it, real:
Heaven's nooks they are for getting in,
When weeping weather's 'setting in.

And now and now I see them,
The poet comes upon me,
My back it springs
With a sense of wings,
And my laurel crown is on me;
The room begins to rise with me,
And all your sparkling eyes with me.

Far, far away we're going
From care and common-places,

To spots of bliss
As fine to this,
As your's to common faces;
To spots—but rapture dissipates
The pictures it anticipates.-

And hey, what's this ? the walls, look,
Are wrinkling as a skin does ;
And now they are bent
To a silken tent,
And there are chrystal windows;
And look! there's a balloon above,
Round and bright as the moon above.


Now we loosen-now-take care;

What a spring from earth was there!
Like an angel mounting fierce,
We have shot the night with a pierce ;

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