Nature-Notes
In siren moonlight. Here, where twilight
    paves
The woodland paths, I seem to hear her
    trail
Dim raime:kt; her, that damsel who en-
    slaves
My soul; that Beauty, sad, divinely pale,
That haunts thy song, mastering the
    gamut whole
Of dreams and mubic; on whose easeful
    breast, -
As once Endymion's head, soft-dreaming,
    pressed
That Indian maiden's bosom, - rests my
    soul.


0 let me sing as thou didst, Keats, and
    die!
  With soul poured on the circling starry
    night;
When Dian's ltne hangs dewy in the sky,
  And the wild nightingale with an-
    guished might
Bewails in some dense bramble's spicy
    dusk
  Its old heart-sorrow to the wild rose
    wan;
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