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" Forbear, my son," the Hermit cries, " To tempt the dangerous gloom ; For yonder faithless phantom flies To lure thee to thy doom. " Here to the houseless child of want My door is open still; And though my portion is but scant, I give it with good will. "
Notes and Queries - Página 336
1888
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The Library of Poetry and Song, Volumen1

William Cullen Bryant - 1925 - 1100 páginas
...fainting steps and slow ; Where wilds, immeasurably spread, Seem lengthening as I go." " Forliear, my son," the Hermit cries, "To tempt the dangerous gloom ; For yonder faithless phantom fires To lure thee to thy doom. " Here to the houseless child of want My door is open still ; And though...
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