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O, elmleaves dark and dewy,
The very same ye seem,
The low wind trembles through ye,
Ye murmur in my dream!

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1842.

O, stars, ye saw our meeting,
Two beings and one soul,
Two hearts so madly beating

To mingle and be whole!

O, happy night, deliver

Her kisses back to me,

Or keep them all, and give her

A blissful dream of me!

MIDNIGHT.

THE moon shines white and silent

On the mist, which, like a tide

Of some enchanted ocean,

O'er the wide marsh doth glide,

Spreading its ghost-like billows
Silently far and wide.

A vague and starry magic
Makes all things mysteries,

And lures the earth's dumb spirit
Up to the longing skies, –

I seem to hear dim whispers,

And tremulous replies.

The fireflies o'er the meadow

In pulses come and go; The elmtrees' heavy shadow Weighs on the grass below; And faintly from the distance The dreaming cock doth crow.

All things look strange and mystic, The very bushes swell

And take wild shapes and motions,

As if beneath a spell,

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They seem not the same lilacs

From childhood known so well.

The snow of deepest silence

O'er everything doth fall,

So beautiful and quiet,

And yet so like a pall,

As if all life were ended,

And rest were come to all.

1842.

O, wild and wondrous midnight,

There is a might in thee

To make the charmed body

Almost like spirit be,

And give it some faint glimpses
Of immortality!

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