by Ralph Waldo Emerson
They brought me rubies from the mine,
  And held them to the sun;
I said, they are drops of frozen wine
  From Eden's vats that run.

I looked again,—I thought them hearts
  Of friends to friends unknown;
Tides that should warm each neighboring life
  Are locked in sparkling stone.

But fire to thaw that ruddy snow,
  To break enchanted ice,
And give love's scarlet tides to flow,—
  When shall that sun arise?


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