If I do fall, at least I will be laid Beneath the silence of a poplar shade; And over me the grass shall be smooth shaven ; They should not know thee, who athirst to gain Be but the essence of deformity, A coward, did my very eyelids wink At speaking out what I have dared to think. Over some precipice; let the hot sun Melt my Dedalian wings, and drive me down I could unsay those-no, impossible! Impossible! For sweet relief I'll dwell On humbler thoughts, and let this strange assay E'en now all tumult from my bosom fades: Things such as these are ever harbingers A butterfly, with golden wings broad-parted, Sleep, quiet with his poppy coronet : Of nymphs approaching fairly o'er the sward: See, in another picture, nymphs are wiping A fold of lawny mantle dabbling swims STANZAS. IN a drear-nighted December, The north cannot undo them, In a drear-nighted December, But with a sweet forgetting, Never, never petting About the frozen time. Ah! would 'twere so with many A gentle girl and boy! To know the change and feel it, |