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Ring out the want, the care, the sin,

The faithless coldness of the times;

Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes, But ring the fuller minstrel in.

Ring out false pride in place and blood,
The civic slander and the spite;

Ring in the love of truth and right,
Ring in the common love of good.

Ring out old shapes of foul disease;

Ring out the narrowing lust of gold;

Ring out the thousand wars of old,

Ring in the thousand years of peace.

Ring in the valiant man and free,

The larger heart, the kindlier hand;

Ring out the darkness of the land,

Ring in the Christ that is to be.

CVII.

T is the day when he was born,

A bitter day that early sank
Behind a purple-frosty bank

Of vapour, leaving night forlorn.

The time admits not flowers or leaves
To deck the banquet. Fiercely flies
The blast of North and East, and ice
Makes daggers at the sharpen'd eaves,

And bristles all the brakes and thorns

To yon hard crescent, as she hangs Above the wood which grides and clangs Its leafless ribs and iron horns

Together, in the drifts that pass

To darken on the rolling brine

That breaks the coast. But fetch the wine,

Arrange the board and brim the glass;

Bring in great logs and let them lie,
To make a solid core of heat;

Be cheerful-minded, talk and treat

Of all things ev'n as he were by;

We keep the day. With festal cheer,
With books and music, surely we

Will drink to him, whate'er he be,

And sing the songs he loved to hear.

CVIII.

WILL not shut me from my kind.

And, lest I stiffen into stone,

I will not eat my heart alone,

Nor feed with sighs a passing wind:

What profit lies in barren faith,

And vacant yearning, tho' with might To scale the heaven's highest height, Or dive below the wells of Death?

What find I in the highest place,

But mine own phantom chanting hymns?

And on the depths of death there swims The reflex of a human face.

I'll rather take what fruit may be

Of sorrow under human skies:

'Tis held that sorrow makes us wise,

Whatever wisdom sleep with thee.

CIX.

EART-AFFLUENCE in discursive talk

From household fountains never dry;
The critic clearness of an eye,

That saw thro' all the Muses' walk;

Seraphic intellect and force

To seize and throw the doubts of man;

Impassion❜'d logic, which outran

The hearer in its fiery course;

High nature amorous of the good,

But touch'd with no ascetic gloom;

And passion pure in snowy bloom Thro' all the years of April blood;

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