The glass of outer weariness,

And shake their ragged wings; alas!

Broken boughs and blackened leaves.

Thine eyes grow full of tender care:

Has given the waves their melody,

The shaking of its leafy head

From joy the holy b九九藏書ranches start,

Has planted quiet in the night;

Or only gaze a little while;

And how the winged sandals dart,

BELOVED, gaze in thine own heart,

Roots half hidden under snows,

And all the trembling flowers they bear.

A九*九*藏*書nd made my lips and music wed,

The holy tree is growing there;

There, through the broken branches, go

Gaze no more in the bitter glass

Or else they stand and sniff the wind,

There the Joves a circle go,

For there a 九*九*藏*書fatal image grows

The surety of its hidden root

The demons, with their subtle guile.

The flaming circle of our days,

In the dim glass the demons hold,

The ravens of unresting thought;

For ill things turn to barrenness

Murmu九-九-藏-書ring a wizard song for thee.

Cruel claw and hungry throat,

The changing colours of its fruit

That the stormy night receives,

Gyring, spiring to and fro

Gaze no more in the bitter glass.

Beloved, gaze in thine own heart.

Remembehｔｔpｓ://read•９９ｃｓw.cｏmring all that shaken hair

In those great ignorant leafy ways;

Made when God slept in times of old.

Have dowered the stars with metry light;

Thy tender eyes grow all unkind:

Flying, crying, to and fro,

Lift up before us when they pass,