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TO THE MOON.
WRITTEN IN NOVEMBER,
SUBLIME, emerging from the misty verge
As sweeping o'er the leafless grove, the gale, m Seems to repeat the year's funereal dirge. i w Now Autumn sickens on the languid sight, de biow And leaving leaves bestrew the wanderer's way," Now unto thee, pale arbitress of night,
With double joy my homage do I pay.
When clouds disguise the glories of the day,tie » And stern November sheds her boisterous blight, How doubly sweet to mark the moony ray Shoot through the mist from the ethereal height, And, still unchang'd, back to the memory bringo; The smiles' Favonian of life's earliest springer.
WRITTEN AT THE GRAVE OF A FRIEND.
FAST from the West the fading day-streaks fly,... And ebon Night assumes her solemn sway, ... L... Yet here alone, unheeding time, I lie,
And o'er my friend still pour the plaintive lay. T Oh! 'tis not long since, George, with thee I woo'd
The maid of musings by yon moaning wave,
And hail'd the moon's mild beam, which now renew'd,
Yet still I weep o'er thy deserted mound.
TO MISFORTUNE. TILAG
MISFORTUNE, Lam young, my chin is, bare,
I am yet young, and do not like thy face;
As thus oppress'd with many a heavy care,
Fills my sad breast; and, tir'd with this vain coil,
And as amid the leaves the evening air
When I no more can hear, these woods will speak;
And mournful phantasies upon me throng,
On the calm slumbers of the dead man's night.
EMBLEM of life! see changeful April sail
And pouring from the cloud her sudden hail;
The smiles of Fortune flatter to deceive,