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STILL I LOVE TO RHYME           73
So each, at last himself, for good In that dear country lays him down,
At last beloved and understood And pure in feature and renown.
STILL I love to rhyme, and still more, rhyming, to
Far from the commoner way ; Old-time trills and falls by the brook-side still do
I ponder, Dreaming to-morrow to-day.
Come  here, come, revive  me, Sun-God, teach me, Apollo,
Measures descanted before; Since I ancient verses, I emulous follow,
Prints in the marbles of yore.
Still strange, strange, they sound in old-young raiment invested,
Songs for the brain to forgetó Young song-birds elate to grave old temples benested
Piping and chirruping yet.