Imatges de pÓgina
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More need of words that ills abate;

Reserve or censure come not near Our sacred friendship, lest there be No solace left for thee and me.

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VI.

Gentle and good and mild thou art,
Nor can I live if thou appear
Aught but thyself, or turn thine heart
Away from me, or stoop to wear
The mask of scorn, although it be
To hide the love thou feel'st for me.

OET of Nature, thou hast wept to know

That things depart which never may return:

Childhood and youth, friendship and love's

first glow,

Have fled like sweet dreams, leaving thee to

mourn.

These common woes I feel. One loss is mine Which thou too feel'st, yet I alone deplore. Thou wert as a lone star, whose light did shine

On some frail bark in winter's midnight roar:
Thou hast like to a rock-built refuge stood
Above the blind and battling multitude:
In honoured poverty thy voice did weave
Songs consecrate to truth and liberty,-
Deserting these, thou leavest me to grieve,
Thus having been, that thou shouldst cease to

be.

Mutability

E are as clouds that veil the mid

night moon;

How restlessly they speed, and gleam, and quiver,

Streaking the darkness radiantly!—yet soon Night closes round, and they are lost for

ever :

Or like forgotten lyres, whose dissonant strings. Give various response to each varying blast, To whose frail frame no second motion brings One mood or modulation like the last.

We rest. A dream has power to poison

sleep;

We rise. One wandering thought pollutes

the day;

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We feel, conceive or reason, laugh or weep; Embrace fond woe, or cast our cares away:

It is the same! - For, be it joy or sorrow,
The path of its departure still is free:
Man's yesterday may ne'er be like this mor-

row;

Nought may endure but Mutability.

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On Death

"There is no work, nor device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom, in the grave, whither thou goest."- Ecclesiastes.

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HE pale, the cold, and the moony

smile

Which the meteor beam of a starless night

Sheds on a lonely and sea-girt isle,

Ere the dawning of morn's undoubted light,

Is the flame of life so fickle and wan

That flits round our steps till their strength is

gone.

O man! hold thee on in courage of soul Through the stormy shades of thy worldly

way,

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