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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,
Withered and shaken,
I remember, I remember.
Miss Kilmansegg. Seemed washing his hands with invisible soap
In imperceptible water.
Spurned by the young, but hugged by the old
How widely its agencies vary -
The soul of music slumbers in the shell,
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.
Mine be a cot beside the hill;
A beehive's hum shall soothe my ear ;
With many a fall, shall linger near.
To a Tear.
very law which moulds a tear
none on earth above her!
The good are better made by ill,
RICHARD MONCKTON MILNES.
Tragedy of the Lac de Gaube.
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.
BRYAN W. PROCTOR.
I never was on the dull, tame shore,