The Earth's Desire
When a sigh as of abdication is wrung from lordly things
By the rumour of crumbling pride that the eve of autumn brings;
When the troubled splendours come, and the green perfections go,
Amid flitting of vagabond tempest irresolute to and fro;
" Ask, ask thou a boon, " say the Heavens to the wistful Earth; but in vain
She asks for the bliss of the Rose, and the pomp of the Nightingale's pain.
By the rumour of crumbling pride that the eve of autumn brings;
When the troubled splendours come, and the green perfections go,
Amid flitting of vagabond tempest irresolute to and fro;
" Ask, ask thou a boon, " say the Heavens to the wistful Earth; but in vain
She asks for the bliss of the Rose, and the pomp of the Nightingale's pain.
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