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322 FOREST MELODIES.
Soft breezes blow along that blissful strand,
And its pure river lies in sacred light ; And far along those ever-radiant skies, Sweet strains of heavenly harmony arise.
Come, let us go to heaven:—the restless mind Longs to be ranging on that blissful shore;
0, let it drop its mortal garb behind, • Seize its bright pinions, and begin to soar!
Come, ye blest guard—come, ye angelic band,
And waft our spirits to that heavenly land.
Feb., 1818.
A CRADLE SONG.
Hush'd is the sound of laughter now,
And the childlike wailings cease, While over the lip, and on the brow
Has fallen a smile of peace : Forgotten now is the frolic play,
Her little griefs are forgot; The sounds that have charm'd her ears to-day,
In slumber she heedeth not.
Thus wilt thou sink to rest, my child,
When the day of life is o'er; When thy childish mirth, and sorrows wild,
Shall distract the heart no more. |
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