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Sure, 't was a thing for angels to have seen,
APPROACH OF EVENING.
In rich confusion. Now the air is fill'd
In closing beauty, where the dew distillid
Twilight has come in saffron mists embower'd,
Just rising from her sleep, the young Moon shows, Supine upon the clouds, her cheeks suffused with rose.
This is the loveliest hour of all that Day
That like a watch-fire trembles o'er the tide, Brightning with every shade that on its surge doth ride.
THE WINTER ROSE.
may not woo thy stay,
Are fading fast away,
And melt in misty gray.
Broke through the season's gloom,
Thy breathing of perfume;
And traced on every silken leaf
And sudden as thy doom.
The morning sun thy petals hail'd
New from their mossy cell,
Bade thee a last farewell ;
Thy withering beauties fell.
Alas! on thy forsaken stem
My heart shall long recline,
And make the story mine;
With smile as soft as thine.
Like thee, the vision came and went,
Like thee, it bloom'd and fell,
Of fairer climes to tell,
ON THE STARRY FIRMAMENT. I GAZE upon yon orbs of light
The countless stars that gem the sky; Each in its sphere serenely bright,
Wheeling its course-how silently! While in the mantle of the night
Earth, and its cares and troubles lie.
Temple of light and loveliness,
And throne of grandeur, can it be That souls, whose kindred loftiness
Nature hath framed to rise to thee,
This prison of mortality ?
For ever leads our steps astray,
We turn from this divine array,
A good that vanisheth away.
To these eternal starry spheres ; Look on these glories of the skies,
And see how poor this world appears, With all its pomps and vanities
With all its hopes and all its fears. Who can look forth upon this blaze
Of heavenly lamps, so brightly shining Through the unbounded void of
spaceA hand unseen their course assigning All moving with unequal pace,
Yet in harmonious concord joining : Who sees the silver chariot move
Of the bright moon; and, gliding slow, The star whose influence from above
Sheds knowledge on the world below; And the resplendent Queen of Love
All bright and beautifully glow: Or, where the angry God of War
Rolls fiercely on his bloody way, And near the mild majestic star
That o'er the gods of old held sway; That beams his radiance from afar,
And calms the heavens beneath his ray:
Where Saturn shows his distant beam,
God of the golden days of yore;
Thick as the sand upon the shore,
Of glory and of radiance pour :
And gazed on this majestic scene,
Spurning its pleasures poor and mean,
HUMAN LIFE. THE lark has sung his carol in the sky; The bees have humm’d their noontide lullaby ; Still in the vale the village bells ring round, Still in Llewellyn-hall the jesls resound : For now the caudle-cup is circling there, Now, glad at heart, the gossips breathe their prayer, And, crowding, stop the cradle to admire The babe, the sleeping image of his Sire. A few short years, and then these sounds shall hail The day again, and gladness fill the vale : So soon the child a youth, the youth a man, Eager to run the race his fathers ran. Then the huge ox shall yield the broad sirloin ; The ale, new brew'd, in floods of amber shine; And basking in the chimney's ample blaze, 'Mid many a tale told of his boyish days, The nurse shall cry, of all her ills beguiled, “ 'Twas on these knees he sat so oft, and smiled." And soon again shall music swell the breeze; Soon, issuing forth, shall glitter through the trees