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354 ANNA PEYRE DINNIES. And with their gloomy shades conceal The landmarks Hope would else reveal. Come, rouse thee, now—I know thy mind, And would its strength awaken; Proud, gifted, noble, ardent, kind— Strange thou shouldst be thus shaken! But rouse afresh each energy, And be what Heaven intended thee; Throw from thy thoughts this wearying weight, And prove thy spirit firmly great: I would not see thee bend below The angry storms of earthly woe. Full well I know the generous soul Which warms thee into life, Each spring which can its powers control, Familiar to thy Wife— For deem'st thou she had stoop'd to bind Her fate unto a common mind? The eagle-like ambition, nursed From childhood in her heart, had first Consumed, with its Promethean flame, The shrine—than sunk her so to shame. Then rouse thee, dearest, from the dream That fetters now thy powers: Shake off this gloom—Hope sheds a beam To gild each cloud which lowers; And though at present seems so far The wished-for goal—a guiding star, With peaceful ray, would light thee on, Until its utmost bounds be won: That quenchless ray thou'lt ever prove, In fond, undying, Wedded Love. ANNA PEYRE DINNIES. 355 TO MY HUSBAND'S FIRST GRAY HAIR. "I know thee not—I loathe thy race; But in thy lineaments I trace What time shall strengthen—not efface." Giaour. THOU strange, unbidden guest! form whence Thus early hast thou come? And wherefore? Rude intruder, hence. And seek some fitter home! These rich young locks are all too dear— Indeed thou must not linger here! Go! take thy sober aspect where The youthful cheek is fading, Or find some furrow'd brow, which Care And Passion have been shading; And add thy sad malignant trace, To mar the aged or anguish'd face! Thou wilt not go? Then answer me, And tell what brought thee here? Not one of all thy tribe I see Beside thyself appear, And, through these bright and clustering curls Thou shinest, a tiny thread of pearls. Thou art a moralist? ah, well! And comest from Wisdom's land, A few sage axioms just to tell? Well! well! I understand— Old Truth hath sent thee here to bear The maxims which we fain must hear. And now, as I observe thee nearer, Thou'rt pretty—very pretty—quite As glossy and as fair—nay fairer Than these, but no so bright;
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Reopened for Editing 2023-06-27 19:17:21
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Reopened for Editing 2023-06-27 21:56:11
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Reopened for Editing 2023-06-29 15:28:07