Wanderings With the Muses Or Fugitive Poems

Cover Wanderings With the Muses Or Fugitive Poems
Wanderings With the Muses Or Fugitive Poems
C D Morgan
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you're gone.
The hills were bleak and barren, Not a leaflet gemmed a tree, — But the snow-drop op'ed its bosom, And bade stem "Winter flee.
SPRING ri. OAYER* 61 The braes were cold and cheerless When the violet reared its head, And o'er it perched the redbreast, And Sana: for Winter dead.
^& The wild wood sounded hollow. When the bright anemones came ; But they are gone with the many, — Gone like the breath of fame.
The streamlet mui-mured sadly. When the primrose fair awoke ; But soon it leape
...d to music. For it knew its chains were broke.
Grey were the meads and blighted When the golden cowslip rose ; But the green blades gathered round it When its brilliant eyes would close.
So, like the flowers of spring-time. We all must pass away ; How fleet is our little moments, How frail is the breath in clay.
But again will the flow'rets blossom, When the wintry days are passed : And we shall start from slumber At that long loud trumpet's blast.
H 62 SPRINO FLOWBIU.
But now ye are gone my beautiful, Ye are gone to your graves to sleep, And tho' sunbeams dance around ye, I would kneel o'er your graves to weep.


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