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130 SONGS FROM THE ST. LAWRENCE.
Of the breeze, Laden with its incense meet, Trilling through the leafy trees,
O, how sweet!
Gentle flower, Winter holdeth still his sway; He must tyrannize his hour,
Then away.
Thanks to thee! Thou hast brought me visions bright, Of the summer's buoyancy,
Free and light.
F«b.,lM8.
A SCATTERED HOUSEHOLD.
One perish'd on the raging seas, Where the, tall mast was bow'd;
While death was on the startling breeze, And terror in the cloud.
He made his pillow deep below The ocean's sounding waves,
Where the bright pearls and corals glow In its unfathom'd caves.
One fell upon the battle-field, Where the war-spirit frown'd;
No kindred hand his eyelids seal'd, Or drest the fatal wound. |
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