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Pure as the snow the summer sun
Never at noon hath look'd upon, -
Deep, as is the diamond wave,
Hidden in the desart cave, -
Changeless, as the greenest leaves
Of the wreath the cypress weaves, -
Hopeless, often, when most fond,
Without hope or fear beyond
Its own pale fidelity, -
And this woman's love can be!
Letitia Elizabeth Landon
Spirit, that ruleth man's life to its ending,
Chance, Fortune, Fate, answer my summoning now;
The storm o'er the face of the night is descending,-
Fair moon, the dark clouds hide thy silvery brow.
Let these bring thy answer, and tell me if sadness
For ever man's penance and portion must be;
Doth the morning come forth from a birthplace of gladness?
Is there peace, is there rest, in thine empire or thee?
Letitia Elizabeth Landon