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THOU Comest, much wept for such a breeze Compell'd thy canvas, and my prayer

Was as the whisper of an air To breathe thee over lonely seas.

For I in spirit saw thee move

Thro' circles of the bounding sky; Week after week: the days go by : Come quick, thou bringest all I love.

Henceforth, wherever thou may'st roam,
My blessing, like a line of light,

Is on the waters day and night,
And like a beacon guards thee home.

So may

whatever tempest mars

Mid-ocean, spare thee, sacred bark ;

And balmy drops in summer dark

Slide from the bosom of the stars.

So kind an office hath been done,

Such precious relics brought by thee;

The dust of him I shall not see

Till all my widow'd race be run.


Ah! yet, ev'n yet, if this might be,

I, falling on his faithful heart,

Would breathing thro' his lips impart The life that almost dies in me:

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THE Danube to the Severn gave

The darken'd heart that beat no more;

They laid him by the pleasant shore,

And in the hearing of the wave.

There twice a day the Severn fills,
The salt sea-water passes by,

And hushes half the babbling Wye,

And makes a silence in the hills.

The Wye is hush'd nor moved along ;
And hush'd my deepest grief of all,
When fill'd with tears that cannot fall,

I brim with sorrow drowning song.

The tide flows down, the wave again
Is vocal in its wooded walls :
My deeper anguish also falls,

And I can speak a little then.

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