Imatges de pÓgina
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April, 1814

WAY! the moor is dark beneath the moon,

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:

Thy lover's eye, so glazed and cold, dares not entreat thy stay:

Duty and dereliction guide thee back to solitude.

Away, away! to thy sad and silent home;

Pour bitter tears on its desolated hearth; Watch the dim shades as like ghosts they go

and come,

And complicate strange webs of melancholy mirth.

The leaves of wasted autumn woods shall float around thine head:

The blooms of dewy spring shall gleam beneath thy feet:

But thy soul or this world must fade in the frost that binds the dead,

Ere midnight's frown and morning's smile, ere thou and peace may meet.

The cloud shadows of midnight possess their

own repose,

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My baffled looks did fear yet dread

To meet thy looks - I could not know
How anxiously they sought to shine
With soothing pity upon mine.


To sit and curb the soul's mute rage
Which preys upon itself alone;
To curse the life which is the cage
Of fettered grief that dares not groan,

Hiding from many a c
The scornèd load of ag

thou alo

Whilst thou alone, the
To spend years thus, a
As thou, sweet love,
When none were near
From torture for that r


Upon my heart thy acc Of peace and pity fel On flowers half dead;

Mine tremblingly; t Their soft persuasion o Charming away its drea


We are not happy, swee Is strange and full of


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