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1814–1902

VIII.

Aubrey De Vere

Come from the midnight mountain tops, The mountains where the panthers play: Descend; the veil of darkness drops; Come fair and fairer than the day!

Our hearts are wounded with thine eyes: They character in words of light Thereon the mystery of the skies: The “Name o'er every name” they write.

Come from thy Lebanonian peaks Whose sacerdotal cedars nod Above the world, when morning breaks — The Mountain of the House of God.

The land thou lov'st — well is she! The ploughers on her back may plough; But in her vales upgrows the Tree Of Life, and binds the bleeding brow.

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VIII. · Aubrey De Vere · Poetry Cove