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158 SONGS FROM THE ST. LAWRENCE.
Thou art broken, fragile charmer, Like the friend my heart held dear;
Cast aside, neglected lying, Fast thy beauties disappear.
Emma! O, the love I 've borne thee Costs me many a blush of shame!
From my bleeding heart I 've torn thee, Cast aside thy tarnisli'd name!
HAPPY NEW YEAR.
Suggested by hearing a friend Bay he had found the New Yew, but was in search of the Happy.
Surely, thought I, 'tis this, 'tis this— A thirst for earthly happiness—
Which prompts our search below; A something lurks within the breast Which pants for happiness, for rest,
That earth cannot bestow.
To-day how many hearts beat high With hopes as bright as yonder sky,
With dreams of earthly bliss! Thro' pleasure's paths they take their way, And, like my friend, this New-Year's day,
They search for happiness.
Onward the pleasing phantom flies, And on they press to grasp the prize. |
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