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Or, o'er the seas in safety borne,
A foreign land ;
A wonder stand.
Or, 'scaped from tempests, drought, and men, Unhurt thy petals, leaves, or stem,
Thou here may’st stay ; And, having spread thy odours round, And strown thy leaves upon the ground,
Then pass away.
Sweet little flower, in thee I see
And man's sad fate.
Or any state :
Sometimes he's tost on trouble's billow;
A varied lot!
He's soon forgot.
TO S****, WEEPING.
Why shouldst thou weep? no cause hast thou
For one desponding sigh ;
Nor dimmed thy radiant eye.
Why shouldst thou weep ? around thee glows
The purple light of youth,
Of innocence and truth.
Nay, weep not while thy sun shines bright,
And cloudless is thy day, While past and present joys unite
To cheer thee on thy way ;
While fond companions round thee move
To youth and nature true,
Thy every step pursue.
Nay, weep not now-reserve thy tears,
For that approaching hour,
The clouds of time shall lower.
When thou, alas ! no more canst see,
But in the realms above,
When some, thy fond companions now
And constant to thy side,
Or cold repulsive pride.
Or some, the faithful of that band,
Bless thee with faltering breath,
Wipes the chill dews of death.
Nay, weep not now-reserve thy tears
For that approaching day,
All joys have stolen away ;
When Memory a wavering light
Sheds dimly o'er the past,
The horrors of the last.
Nay, weep not then let but the ray
Of heavenly peace be thine, Glorious shall be thy summer's day,
Unclouded its decline.
Then Memory's light, though dim, shall show
How pure thy former years,
On realms beyond the spheres.
THE MURDERED TRAVELLER.
When Spring to woods and wastes around,
Brought bloom and joy again; The murdered traveller's bones were found,
Far down a narrow glen.
The fragrant birch, above him, hung
Her tassels in the sky;
And nodded, careless, by.
The red-bird warbled, as he wrought
His hanging nest o’erhead, And fearless near the fatal spot,
Her young the partridge led.
But there was weeping far away,
And gentle eyes, for him,
Grew sorrowful and dim.
They little knew, who loved him so,
The fearful death he met,
Unarmed, and hard beset.
Nor how when round the frosty pole
The northern dawn was red,
To banquet on the dead.
Nor how, when strangers found his bones,
They dressed the hasty bier,
Unmoistened by a tear.
But long they looked, and feared, and wept,
Within his distant home;
For joy that he was come.
So long they looked—but never spied
His welcome step again,
Far down that narrow glen.
THE OLD MAN'S FUNERAL.
I saw an aged mari upon his bier,
His hair was thin and white, and on his brow A record of the cares of many a year ;
Cares, that were ended and forgotten now. And there was sadness round, and faces bowed, And woman's tears fell fast and children wailed aloud.
Then rose another hoary man and said,
In faltering accents, to that weeping train, Why mourn ye, that our aged friend is dead ?
Ye are not sad to see the gathered grain,