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Wears And I. Nor hond
Bloom, O For me ye With Tips un And would yo Work without And Hope wi
VERSE, a b
Where Both were mine
* Printed in the Bijou, + On a day in February
Printed in The Bijou, 18 of the same date.
Scarce had I make lacchus, but in a Lo! Phoebus te
throne) They advance hester
as young ?—Ah, woful when ! ne change 'twixt Now and Then ! thing house* not built with hands, y that does me grievous wrong,
cliffs and glittering sands, htly then it flash'd along vse trim skiffs, unknown of yore, ling lakes and rivers wide, jk no aid of sail or oar, car no spite of wind or tide ! t cared this body for wind or weather Youth and I lived in't together. Ş
ers are lovely ; Love is flower-like;
Ere I was old !
Youth ! for years so many and sweet, ft
« This house of clay–Bijou.
It cannot be that Thou art gone !
Dew-drops are the gems of morning,
When we are old : $
* This dragging gait-Bijou.
+ Here the poem ends in The Bijou, and the Literary Sou. venir. The remaining portion was published under the title of “ The Old Man's Sigh, a Sonnet,” dated “The Grove, Highgate, 18th May, 1832," in Blackwood's Magazine, June 1832. I That only serves to make us grieve
In our old age,
That may not rudely be dismist;
And tells the jest without the smile. [O! might Life cease ! and Selfless Mind, Whose total Being is Act, alone remain behind ! ]
MY eyes make pictures, when they are shut :
I see a fountain, large and fair, A willow and a ruin'd hut,
And thee, and me and Mary there. O Mary! make thy gentle lap our pillow ! Bend o’er us, like a bower, my beautiful green
A wild-rose roofs the ruin'd shed,
And that and summer well † agree : And lo! where Mary leans her head,
Two dear names carved upon the tree ! And Mary's tears, they are not tears of sorrow: Our sister and our friend will both be here to-morrow.
'Twas day: but now few, large, and bright,
The stars are round the crescent moon; And now it is a dark warm night,
The balmiest of the month of June !
* Printed in The Bijou, 1828.
A glow-worm fall'n, and * on the marge remounting Shines, and its shadow shines, fit stars for our sweet
() ever-ever be thou blest!
For dearly, Asra, love I thee ! +
This depth of tranquil bliss—ah, me!
The shadows dance upon the wall,
By the still dancing fire-flames made; And now they slumber moveless all !
And now they melt to one $ deep shade! But not from me shall this mild darkness steal thee: I dream thee with mine eyes, and at my heart I feel
Thine eyelash on my cheek doth play
'Tis Mary's hand upon my brow! But let me check this tender lay
Which none may hear but she and thou ! Like the still hive at quiet midnight humming, Murmur it to yourselves, ye two beloved women !
FIRST ADVENT OF LOVE.
As Eve's first star thro' fleecy cloudlet peeping; In the marge–Bijou. f O Asra! dearly love I thee !ib. # They make to me-ib.