id	author	title	date	pages	extension	mime	words	sentences	flesch	summary	cache	txt
11059	Allston, Washington	The Sylphs of the Season with Other Poems			.txt	text/plain	15743	1525	93	"For thou art Nature's chosen child, A Sylph shall win thy heart and hand, 'Tis _I_ thy joyous heart I ween, Thy soul through every pore look'd forth, That made thy heart, like HIS above, Then let thy gentle heart be mine, Where thou hast bless'd thy happy lot. Thy fancy, like a magick wand, Thy youthful heart to glad; Didst thou thy tranced vision raise (Like Nature's self employ'd;) Your souls are, like your bodies, dead! Yet shall the World thy daring high pretence Like mountain watch-lights blinking to the wind; E'en such thou art, to mans mysterious soul! And mine, lovely maid, thou art now!" "Tis true," said the monster, "thou queen of my heart, Thy lovely _soul_ exploring: E'en far itself to love thy soul-ennobling art. Her words were like a sick man's dream That light between like rays that beam I'll press thy hand upon my heart--	./cache/11059.txt	./txt/11059.txt