At sea, yet watching from a cliffFar off can lend no feeblest aid,No more than can a fragile bladeOf grass in some far distant land,That has no heart to wrench, nor handTo stretch in vain, could only standWith streaming eyes and watch the play.
There grew a tree a little wayOff from the hut, a virgin treeAwaiting its fecundity.O Tree was ever worthier GroomLed to a bride of such rare bloom?Did ever fiercer hands enlaceLove and Beloved in an embraceAs heaven-smiled-upon as this?
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