Imatges de pàgina
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SPRING IS COMING.

FAIR SPRING is coming!-'neath her feet, behold

Nature's young

verdure rise, in am'rous strife

O'er the glad earth the floral tribes unfold

Their fairest petals, with sweet incense rife!

Sweet Spring is coming-lovely, teeming Spring !-
Time's germs her em'rald zone encircling shields,
Till Summer's breath to fair perfection bring
The wondrous progeny of groaning fields.

Lo! Spring is coming-coming, from the Past,
To prove eternity in Nature's works !—

The scatter'd seed that Autumn's whirlwinds cast
No longer in Earth's ice-bound bosom lurks !—

No-from decay it springs to life anew,
Bursting the thraldom of the grave for day-
Leaving the close embrace, where erst it grew,
Its grateful service to its God to pay!

And shall thy life, O man! reveal no Spring-
No new creation rise from years of thought-
No purer, holier passions round thee cling

Than those the Past in quick succession brought ?

Shall no fair graces of the soul abound

Sweet Charity on fell Suspicion's tomb,

And "meek-eyed Pity" on the reeking ground

Where stern Revenge of yore pronounced her doom,

And gentle Reason senseless Pride uproot,

And Prudence spread her shelt'ring boughs abroad Where rash Presumption hung her deadly fruit Or Speculation airy nothings stored ?

Shalt thou, O heart! no Spring within thee know ?—
Shall all thy crush'd affections with'ring die ?-
No!-bid them with a purer fervour glow,

Till in exulting strength they reach the sky!

ATONEMENT FOR THE ERRORS OF A PEN.

"Deeper than e'er did plummet sound, I'll drown my Book.”—Shakspere's "Tempest.”

If e'er to bear one painful thought
Or cause thy breast a sigh

This little shaft with ink was fraught,

Be it for ever dry!—

If to throw cheerless gloom around

Thy mind,-Oh, then,

"Deeper than e'er did plummet sound,"

I'll drown my Pen !"

If one sad doubt e'er shook thy breast,―

If once it wrote me changed,

Or, coward-like, the truth suppress'd,

And made me seem estranged,

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ATONEMENT FOR THE ERRORS OF A PEN.

Deep it shall lie, and ne'er be found,

In Neptune's den—

"Deeper than e'er did plummet sound,"
I'll sink such Pen!

If o'er thy brow, so calm and clear,

One sunless cloud it cast,

Or frighted smiles from lips so dear,
Or fail'd to note the past-

That past whose reign did so abound

With love,-Oh, then,

"Deeper than e'er did plummet sound," I'll drown my Pen!

If through thy breast one anguish'd thrill

If from thine eye a tear-
Were tortured by its cruel skill,

(Though as my life 'twere dear,)

I'll reach Contrition's utmost bound,

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Atoning,-when,

Deeper than e'er did plummet sound,"

I'll drown my Pen!

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