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Rh 'Mid coming clouds; or how thy thoughts will fear To catch from the remembrance of the past, A faint reflection of thy former bliss! Thine eye is looking now to future hours, Where hope has traced for thee a fairy land; Pass but a little while, and thou wilt shrink From the cold visions of futurity, Which thou, alas! hast learnt to know too well; And turn to that dear time, ere sadness threw Its shadow o'er thy prospect; when thy soul Shed over all its own romantic light; Ere falsehood, disappointment, grief, and wrong, Wither'd the feelings of thy opening youth— Leaving thee, like the bud the worm hath scath'd, Bloom on its cheek—the canker in its heart.