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THE IDEAL.

NO WRITER ATTRIBUTED

I LINGERED by the shore with pensive mind,

Dreaming; methought I heard the mazy sighing

Of many fancies mingled with the wind,

And many thoughts that with the winds were dying.

'T was early morning, and the sunbeams crept

With curious tinted light across the sea;

And long I waited, while the forest slept,

Until this strain was wafted on to me" -

"In the land of thoughts and visions,

In the kingdom of forever,

All thy fancy will be free.

"There is heard the ceaseless moaning,

Ceaseless rolling of the river

That is mingling with the sea.

"But the land is land of shadows

Gladly to the poet given,

Which the poet's mind has sought;

"And the river is his music,

Wafted upward to the heaven,

Mingling with the sea of thought."

I listened till the song had died away

To silence; then I felt the gloom had past,

For through the forest shone the joyful day,

And to my soul content had come at last.

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