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Show DE JUVENTUTE CLAMAVI. By Louise Betts Edwards. There is no end to my longing; An ocean sings in my shell; My heart has room for the thronging Ambitions of Heaven and Hell. I am fey with the fierce sweet savor Of life on my ravished tongue; Make away, ye who whimper and waver: I am young, young, young! My sky-line widens, widens: I am coming: O wait, my world! I will wave, ye shall follow, the guidons Faint hands in defeat have furled. I pause but to fondle and finger The gifts that the gods have flung; In their garden of lilies I linger I am young, harsh hearts, young! There Is no love like my loving; New bathed in the fount of truth, Heart baring and hand ungloving, In the passionate pledge of youth, I move in the dreamllght splendor Of a soul to ecstacy stung An ardor, a wild surrender None know but the young, the young. The pain of my heart escapes me In a bitter exceeding cry; 1 writhe in the hand that shapes me: Stop, stop, all ye that pass by! What sorrow is like the sorrow From my fresh heart's richness wrung? Ye deceive me with no tomorrow I am young, ah, misery, young! Ye pallid and wise and wizen, Whoso day and whose life is done, I shall sit by your side in my season, And knit Tn the wintry sun. I doubted it once in my boldness, Ah, pity of God! for, see-Though see-Though I shall grow old with your oldness, None ever was young like me! In July Harper's Magazine. |