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Very light
Streams with a coloring of heroic days
In every ray;

nor of

Rich fretted roofs
And the wrought coronals of summer leaves,
Ivy and vine, and many a sculptured rose
Binding the slender columns, whose light shafts
Cluster like stems in corn-sheaves ;

nor of

The crimson gloom from banners thrown;


Forms, in pale proud slumber carved,
Of warriors on their tombs, where jewelled crowns
On the flushed brows of conquerors have been set,
And the high anthems of old victories
Have made the dust give echoes!

These are rich indeed with an interest of their own, but they do not deeply touch the heart. Grave lessons are to be learned from them, but, as the poet adds, too frequently they are but memories and monuments of power and pride,--of power and pride

That long ago,
Like dim processions of a dream, have sunk
In twilight depths away.

These we behold with wondering awe ;--it may be with a solemn admiration; yet these very feelings but stand in the way of deeper ones. We see too much,too much of man and his observances. Crowds of associations too historical engross the mind. The imagination and the memory are excited to the prejudice of

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