Page:Landon in Literary Gazette 1827.pdf/14

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The desert hath a dreary waste Of burning sand and sky; But even there the fount and palm Beside the pathway lie: There may the tired pilgrim rest Upon his wearied race.— I would the wilderness of Love Could boast such resting place: But sultry sky and endless sands, These, O Love! are for thee— Thy constant destiny: alas, That such should be for me!L. E. L.