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150

“BUT WHERE SHALL MAN'S EYES FIND HER?

But where shall man's eyes find her?—
By shores of dim grey sea?
Or under summer tree?
Or do the rose-bowers bind her?
Long may he seek, and, seeking,
Be sick of heart and sere,—
Ere falls upon his ear
The sound of her soft speaking.
Yea, old and sad and weary
He shall be ere the dawn
Gild forest and wet lawn
With light so sweet and eerie.

151

Ere in that light she stands,
A Bride for evermore,
With heart whence love-floods pour
And great immortal hands.