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Nor would I break the vision
Young fancies frame, young fancies frame,
That lights with stars Elysian
A poet’s name, a poet’s name.
For she whose gentle spirit
Such dreams sublime, such dreams sublime,
Gives hues they do not merit
To sons of rhyme, to sons of rhyme,
But place the proudest near her,
Whate’er their pen, whate’er their pen,
She’ll say (be mute who hear her)
Mere mortal men, mere mortal men!

Yet though unseen, unseeing,
We meet and part, we meet and part,
Be still my worshipped being,
In mind and heart, in mind and heart.
And bid thy song that found me,
My minstrel-maid, my minstrel-maid!
Be winter’s sunbeam round me,
And summer’s shade, and summer’s shade.
I could not gaze upon thee,
And dare thy spell, and dare thy spell,
And when a happier won thee,
Thus bid farewell, thus bid farewell.