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84

LVIII.

The tribes of earth, the dwellers in the main,
Air's light inhabitants, at seasons own
The sway of love; but in man's heart alone
He holds, though oft unseen, continual reign;
Like to that latent fire which will remain
Secret, pervading all things, till 'tis shown
By some collision, when the flinty stone
Can make, in brilliant streams, its presence plain
Dear to the flower, as is the cherishing ray,
So love comes to the soul, in lustrous might;
The plant, gay blushing, gladdens in the day;
And should it be denied the influence bright,
Will strangely wind a forced and crooked way,
Striving to reach at length the needful light.