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46

A REBUKE.

I

Poet, why dost weep and groan?
(Nature thus rebuked her son)
Never child do I disown,
But thou art a favour'd one.
Strong and apt attendants run
Swiftly to thy call;
Best of every service done
To thy share doth fall.

II

Greener tree I give to thee,
Rosier rose, of richer scent,
Brighter river, grander sea,
Bluer sky above thee bent;
Dreams on others never spent,
Waking or asleep,
Love and varying wonderment
Almost angel-deep.

III

Know, my child, I've sent thee down
To instruct and cheer the rest.
On thy mountain brow a frown
Chills and darkens east and west.
Deep within a lordly breast
Hide thy skill in grief,—
Only in a power express'd
For thy friends' relief.