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1.–POEMS OF 1847.

VOL. V.

1.-POEMS OF 1847,

THE SPHINX.

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HE Sphinx is drowsy,

Her wings are furled ; Her ear is heavy,

She broods on the world. “ Who'll tell me my secret,

The ages have kept ?I awaited the seer

While they slumbered and slept :“ The fate of the man-child, ze whers are

The meaning of man;
Known fruit of the unknown;

Dædalian plan;
Out of sleeping a waking,

Out of waking a sleep;
Life death overtaking ;

Deep underneath deep ?

Erect as a sunbeam,

Upspringeth the palm ; The elephant browses,

Undaunted and calm ; In beautiful motion

The thrush plies his wings : Kind leaves of his covert,

Your silence he sings.

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