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168 169  
ELIZA FOLLEN.

And hold high converse with the unseen world; 
They wake, and watch, and pray, while others sleep.

The stormy night has pass'd; the eastern clouds 
Glow with the morning's ray; but who shall tell 
The peerless glories of this winter day? 
Nature has put her jewels on; one blaze 
Of sparkling light and ever-varying hues 
Bursts on the enraptured sight. 
The smallest twig with brilliants hangs its head; 
The graceful elm and all the forest trees 
Have on a crystal coat of mail, and seem 
All deck'd and trick'd out for a holiday, 
And every stone shines in its wreath of gems. 
The pert, familiar robin, as he flies 
From spray to spray, showers diamonds round, 
And moves in rainbow light where'er he goes. 
The universe looks glad; but words are vain, 
To paint the wonders of the splendid show. 
The heart exults with uncontroll'd delight. 
The glorious pageant slowly moves away, 
As the sun sinks behind the western hills. 
So fancy, for a short and fleeting day, 
May shed upon the cold and barren earth 
Her bright enchantments and her dazzling hues; 
And thus they melt and fade away, and leave 
A cold and dull reality behind.

But see where in the clear, unclouded sky, 
The crescent moon, with calm and sweet rebuke, 
Doth charm away the spirit of complaint. 
Her tender light falls on the snow-clad hills, 
Like the pure thoughts that angels might bestow 
Upon this world of beauty, and of sin, 
The mingle not with that whereon they rest;—

So should immortal spirits dwell below.
There is a holy influence in the moon,
And in the countless hosts of silent stars,
The heart cannot resist: its passions sleep,
And all is still; save that which shall awake
When all this vast and fair creation sleeps.

ON THE DEATH OF A BEAUTIFUL GIRL.

THE young, the lovely pass away,
Ne'er to be seen again;
Earth's fairest flowers too soon decay;
Its blasted trees remain.

Full oft we see the brightest thing
That lifts its head on high,
Smile in the light, then droop its wing,
And fade away, and die.

And kindly is the lesson given,
Then dry the falling tear;
They came to raise our hearts to heaven,
They go to call us there.

"TO WHOM SHALL WE GO?"

WHEN our purest delights are nipt in the blossom,
When those we love best are laid low,
When grief plants in secret her thorns in the bosom,
Deserted, "to whom shall we go?"

When error bewilders, and our path becomes dreary,
And tears of despondency flow;
When the whole head is sick, and the whole heart is weary,
Despairing, "to whom shall we go?"
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Transcription Notes:
---------- Reopened for Editing 2023-06-28 21:54:45 ---------- Reopened for Editing 2023-06-29 09:32:05