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Richard Monckton Milnes Houghton

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The hills of manhood wear a noble face
When seen from far;
The mist of light from which they take their grace
Hides what they are.
--
Carpe Diem.

 
Richard Monckton Milnes Houghton

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Thy light alone like mist o'er mountains driven,
Or music by the night-wind sent
Through strings of some still instrument,
Or moonlight on a midnight stream,
Gives grace and truth to life's unquiet dream.

 
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He loops in crazy figures half the night
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These hills are too green and sweet to have tasted salt.
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The heath and changes of weather were quite blotted out from their eyes for the present. They were enclosed in a sort of luminous mist, which hid from them surroundings of any inharmonious colour, and gave to all things the character of light. When it rained they were charmed, because they could remain indoors together all day with such a show of reason; when it was fine they were charmed, because they could sit together on the hills. They were like those double stars which revolve round and round each other, and from a distance appear to be one.

 
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We wear the mask that grins and lies,
It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,—
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Paul Laurence Dunbar
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