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Eos:
An Epic of the Dawn, and Other Poems
By
Nicholas Flood Davin
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PARTED.
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The
cold, cruel gods who forever
Sway men’s destinies,
doomed we should meet.
The cold, cruel gods!—who now sever
Two wild hearts which bound
but to greet;
And then bound as the lark from his low bed,
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And
sing as he sings when on high,
When the sun o’er the earth hath his glow
shed,
And his splendour is broad
in the sky.
The flush of thy cheek was as morning,
As her star, the sweet light
in thine eyes,
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To
a heart wrapt in darkness deforming,
And tost in a tempest of
sighs;
And I dreamed in a sleep, sweet to sadness,
As thy red lips in fancy
I prest,
That that heart should beat high with noon’s
gladness,
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And
should bask in the beams of the west.
But lo! ere the day-spring is dewless,
Ere the shrill lark’s
loud matin is o’er,
I look for thy form, but ’tis viewless,
For thy voice, but I hear
it no more;
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And
Night with the boom of her beetles,
Dethrones Day with the songs
of her birds,
There are death knells from shadowy steeples,
And wailings too wild for
all words; [Page 78]
And I roam like some soul banned from blessing,
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Amid
scenes where joy’s cup used o’er-brim,
And bemocked of a phantom caressing,
And the ghost of a conjugal
hymn;
There’s a night in my heart past fate’s
scorning,
Since above it no morrow
shall rise,
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For
the flush of thy cheek was my morning,
My day star, the light in
thine eyes. [Page 79]
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