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73

III. THE NEAR ADVENT.

Now that the little fabric of our loves
Waits, at the very portal of the world,
The moment in which first shall be unfurl'd
The banner of its being; and it moves,
With cadence gentle as the alight of doves
Toward light and breath; be perfect peace upcurl'd
In thy deep heart, Dear! and thy thoughts impearl'd
All, with the dews of joy! For it behoves
That which creates to temper its creation
With balmiest elements of blessedness,
After great Nature's visible dictation;
Who, when she teemeth with delicious spring,
Doth tend the coming birth with sunshining
And with bright rains and blandest airs caress.
25th October 1838.