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No balm in absence will effectual prove,
Thus absence dies, and dying proves
To see each other in reflection.
Love reckons hours for months, and days for years; And every little absence is an age.
All flowers will droop in absence of the sun
His friends beheld, and pitied him in vain,
Though I am forced thus to absent myself
Condemn'd whole years in absence to deplore,
In spring the fields, in autumn hills I rove;
Methinks I see thee straying on the beach,
What tender strains of passion can impart
Far, far too faint the powers of language prove,
Souls paired like ours, like ours to union wrought,
I'm from thy sight, the heart within my bosom
There's not an hour
Of day or dreaming night but I am with thee;
Short absence hurt him more,
And made his wound far greater than before;
All love, increases love at second sight.-Thomas May.
The limner's art may trace the absent feature,
But oh! the scenes 'mid which they met and parted,
Absence makes the heart grow fonder.
Think'st thou that I could bear to part
A few short months-tho' short, they will be long
We must endure it, and our love will be
Burn with a tender glow when I return.
James G. Percival.
Oh Absence! by thy stern decree,
J. T. Watson.
Moved the Creator, in his holy rest,
But all is calm in this eternal sleep;
Here grief forgets to groan, and love to weep;
For God, not man, absolves our frailties here.
E'en with the stroke and line of his great justice;
That in himself, which he spurs on his power
Yet in abstinence in things we must profess,
Against diseases here the strongest fence
Religious men, who hither must be sent
Clytorean streams the love of wine expel,
THE man that sits within a monarch's heart,
Any but God alone to value right
The good before him, but perverts best things
Some praise at morning what they blame at night,
Pick out of mirth, like stones out of the ground,
These are the scum with which coarse wits abound;
Dame Nature, as the learned shew,
Provides each animal its foe;
Hounds hunt the hare, the wily fox
Devours your geese, the wolf your flocks.
Thus envy pleads a natural claim
To persecute the muse's fame,
On poets in all times abusive,
From Homer down to Pope inclusive. Swift.
As the unthought-on accident is guilty
Of what we wildly do, so we profess
Ourselves to be the slaves of chance, and flies
Of every wind that blows.
And trivial accidents shall be forborne,
That others may have time to take their turn.
Such a minister as wind to fire,
That adds an accidental fierceness
To its natural fury.
GLADLY then he mixed
Among those friendly powers, who him received
His speech was answered with a general noise
Sir John Beaumont.
The herald ends, the vaulted firmament
TELL him from me, (as he will win my love,)
I'll make my heaven in a lady's lap,
The next I took to wife,
O that I never had! fond wish too late,
Accomplishments were native to her mind,