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TO A FRIEND WHO SENT ME SOME ROSES.
As late I rambled in the happy fields,
threw Its sweets upon the summer: graceful it grew As is the wand that
queen Titania wields. And, as I feasted on its fragrancy,
I thought the garden-rose it far excell’d; But when, O Wells ! thy roses came to me,
My sense with their deliciousness was spell’d: Soft voices had they, that with tender plea Whisper'd of peace, and truth, and friendliness
TO MY BROTHER GEORGE.
MANY the wonders I this day have seen :
The sun, when first he kist away the tears That filld the eyes of Morn ;—the laurell’d
peers Who from the feathery gold of evening lean ;The Ocean with its vastness, its blue green, Its ships, its rocks, its caves, its hopes, its
fears,Its voice mysterious, which whoso hears Must think on what will be, and what has been. E’en now, dear George, while this for you I write,
Cynthia is from her silken curtains peeping So scantly, that it seems her bridal night,
And she her half-discover'd revels keeping. But what, without the social thought of thee, Would be the wonders of the sky and sea ?
Had I a man's fair form, then might my sighs
Be echoed swiftly through that ivory shell
Thine ear, and find thy gentle heart; so well Would passion arm me for the enterprise : But ah ! I am no knight whose foeman dies ;
No cuirass glistens on my bosom's swell ;
I am no happy shepherd of the dell Whose lips have trembled with a maiden's eyes. Yet must I doat upon thee,-call thee sweet,
Sweeter by far than Hybla's honey'd roses
When steep'd in dew rich to intoxication. Ah! I will taste that dew, for me 'tis meet,
And when the moon her pallid face discloses, I'll gather soine by spells, and incantation.