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- Endymion
- By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
- The rising moon has hid the stars;
- Her level rays, like golden bars,
- Lie on the landscape green,
- With shadows brown between.
- And silver white the river gleams,
- As if Diana, in her dreams,
- Had dropt her silver bow
- Upon the meadows low.
- On such a tranquil night as this,
- She woke Endymion with a kiss,
- When, sleeping in the grove,
- He dreamed not of her love.
- Like Dian’s kiss, unasked, unsought,
- Love gives itself, but is not bought;
- Her voice, nor sound betrays
- Its deep, impassioned gaze.
- It comes,—the beautiful, the free,
- The crown of all humanity,—
- In silence and alone
- To seek the elected one.
- It lifts the boughs, whose shadows deep,
- Are Life’s oblivion, the soul’s sleep,
- And kisses the closed eyes
- Of him, who slumbering lies.
- O, weary hearts! O, slumbering eyes!
- O, drooping souls, whose destinies
- Are fraught with fear and pain,
- Ye shall be loved again!
- No one is so accursed by fate,
- No one so utterly desolate,
- But some heart, though unknown,
- Responds unto his own.
- Responds,—as if with unseen wings,
- A breath from heaven had touched its strings
- And whispers, in its song,
- “Where hast thou stayed so long!”
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