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What art thou--friend or foe?
The Grey-beard Winter sat alone and still,
Winds are sighing round the drooping eaves;
The lights have faded from the little casement,
From what rock-hollow'd cavern deep in ocean,
Time sets his footprints on our little Earth,
The day fades fast;
Peace! Let me go, or ere it be too late;
Turn thine eyes from me, Angel of Heaven--
The King call'd forth his first-born, and took him by the hand,
My little bark glides steadily along,
The night is dark, and evermore
Autumn went faintly flying o'er the land,
Life's chalice is empty--pour in! pour in!
I. - In the Porch.
Mabel, A Sketch.
Hot blows the wild simoom across the waste,
"A hunter of shadows, himself a shade."--HOMER.
About the land I wander, all forlorn,
Ever restless, ever toiling,
The day is fading from the sky,
Love took me softly by the hand,
The days are past, the days are past,
O Cloud so golden, stealing o'er the sky,
The sun is slowly sinking in the West;
On, like a giant, stalketh the strong Wind,
Through the calm and silent air
The reeds are idly waving o'er the marshy ground,
Across the mountains and the hills,
How light and pleasant is the way
The winds sweep by him on his mountain throne,
[It is scarcely necessary to say that the following fragment is founded upon the beautiful, and well-known tale in the "Arabian Nights," entitled, "The two Sisters who were jealous of their younger Sister;" and the reader need only be reminded that t
I stood on the Land's End, alone and still.
Night's heavy hand is lifted up at last,
There is a land whereon the sun's warm gaze,
O! well I mind the olden time,
Far, far away, over land and sea,
There sat a raven 'mid the pines so dark,
The dream fell on him one calm summer night,
O'er the wide world I wander evermore,
Where art thou, oh! my Beautiful? Afar
Deep in the bosom of the ocean,
From the darksome earth-mine lifted,
Whither away, youth, whither away,
Oh! weird West Wind, that comest from the sea,
'Mid the waving Woods of Wytham,
This day it was--Ah! years ago,