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II. the morning mist.

The mist that like a dim soft pall was lying,
Mingling the gray sea with the low gray sky,
Floats upward now; the sunny breeze is sighing,
And Youth stands pale before his destiny:
O passionate heart of Youth!
Each rolling wave with herald voice is crying;
Thou canst delay, but never shun replying,
It calls thee living or it calls thee dying,
Though beauty fade before the glare of truth.

Thou wanderest onward 'neath the solemn morning,
It seems like mid-day ere the sun rides high,
The soft mist fades, whose shadowy adorning
Wrapt in a dreamy haze the earth and sky;
The Ocean lies before!
O thou art lost if thou discard the warning
To make hot Day more fair than fairest dawning,
Till eve look back serenely on the morning
When Youth stood trembling on the ocean-shore.

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