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Ode to Melancholy. And there is ev'n a happiness That makes the heart afraid.

There's not a string attuned to mirth,
But has its chord in Melancholy.

When he is forsaken,

Withered and shaken,
What can an old man do but die ?

I remember, I remember.
I remember, I remember
The fir-trees dark and high ;
I used to think their slender tops
Were close against the sky:
It was a childish ignorance,
But now 't is little joy
To know I'm further off from heaven
Than when I was a boy.

Miss Kilmansegg. Seemed washing his hands with invisible soap

In imperceptible water.

Her Moral.
Gold! Gold! Gold! Gold!
Bright and yellow, hard and cold.

Spurned by the young, but hugged by the old
To the very verge of the churchyard mould.

How widely its agencies vary -
To save —
to ruin — to curse

to bless
As even its minted coins express,
Now stamped with the image of Good Queen Bess,
And now of a Bloody Mary.

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Human Life.
A guardian-angel o'er his life presiding,
Doubling his pleasures, and his cares dividing.

The soul of music slumbers in the shell,
Till waked and kindled by the master's spell ;
And feeling hearts touch them but rightly — pour
A thousand melodies unheard before !

Then, never less alone than when alone. *

* Numquam se minus otiosum esse, quam quum otiosus, nec minus solum, quam quum solus esset.

De Officiis, Lib. iii. cap. 1. CICERO.

Those that he loved so long and sees no more, Loved and still loves, not dead, but gone before, He gathers round him.

A Wish.

Mine be a cot beside the hill;

A beehive's hum shall soothe my ear ;
A willowy brook, that turns a mill,

With many a fall, shall linger near.

To a Tear.

very law which moulds a tear
And bids it trickle from its source,
That law preserves the earth a sphere
And guides the planets in their course.


She was good as she was fair.

none on earth above her!
As pure in thought as angels are,
To know her was to love her.


The good are better made by ill,
As odors crushed are sweeter still.


Tragedy of the Lac de Gaube.

Stanza 2.
But on and up, where Nature's heart

Beats strong amid the hills.

The Men of Old. Great thoughts, great feelings, came to them,

Like instincts, unawares.

A man's best things are nearest him,

Lie close about his feet.


The Sea.
The sea! the sea! the open sea !
The blue, the fresh, the ever free!

I never was on the dull, tame shore,
But I loved the great sea more and more.

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