Imatges de pÓgina
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Early Poems

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HY dewy looks sink in my breast;
Thy gentle words stir poison

there;

Thou hast disturbed the only rest That was the portion of despair! Subdued to Duty's hard control,

I could have borne my wayward lot: The chains that bind this ruined soul

Had cankered then- but crushed it not.

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Rapid clouds have drank the

last pale beam of even:

Away! the gathering winds will call the dark

ness soon,

And profoundest midnight shroud the serene lights of heaven.

Pause not! The time is past! Every voice cries, Away!

Tempt not with one last tear thy friend's ungentle mood:

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