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Such, innocent of heart! wert thou,
And so thy weeping parents bow
Still ring thy accents on the ear,
ftill beams thy smile upon the eye: And retrospection's bitter tear
Flows from the font of memory.
Yet why should floods of sorrow flow
To win the affections here below,
And bear them with thee back to heaven! i
Eeligion tells us we shall meet
In regions of eternal day,
When mortal things are past away.
An&n. And still forgotten while they go,
As on the sea-beach wave on wave
Dissolves at once in snow.
Upon the blue and silent sky
The amber clouds one moment lie,
And like a dream are gone!
Though beautiful the moon-beams play
On the lake's bosom bright as they,
And the soul intensely loves their stay,
Soon as the radiance melts away
We scarce believe it shone!
Heaven-airs amid the harp-strings dwell,
And we wish they ne'er may fade—
They cease! and the soul is a silent cell,
Where music never played.
Dream follows dream through the long night-hours.
Each lovelier than the last—
But ere the breath of morning-flowers,
That gorgeous world flies past.
And many a sweet angelic cheek,
Whose smiles of love and kindness speak,
Glides by us on this earth—
While in a day we cannot tell
Where shone the face we loved so well,
In sadness or in mirth.
Not for them the bliss to trace,
Not for them, the heart is seen,
Helpless, as they slowly stray,
Yet for them has genius kind,
Lonely blindness here can meet,
He, who deigned for men to die,
REFLECTIONS ON THE FOURTH OF JUNE.
Ah day revered for sixty years!
From Thames to Ganges' shore !—
We celebrate no more I
Yet history's page shall mark the morn,
; . . .' >, '.in i 'i i. i Vt
. . #. 'J..1. i!" i' ,i I
THE SPIRIT OF NATURE, mi
. i '.
I spring from the gold mottled east