Page:Poems By Chauncy Hare Townshend.djvu/115

 SEVERAL OCCASIONS. 95 FANCY. W--A? is it that sighs in the soft-swelling breeze, That moans, in the wild wintry blast, O'er the last leaves it shakes from the foresifs tall trees, As o'er relics of happhess past ? Tis Fancy ! whose soul-binding sPells breathe around A charm, that nought else can impart; N'ho, with magic endowment, adds meaning to sound, And interprets it but to the heart. Oft weaves she a garland of fair fragrant flowers, Too quickly, alas, do they fade ! Oft, o'erclouding with sorrow the !one Pensive hours, Twines a wreath of the sad cypress-shade. Tho' more peaceful the bosom, that ne'er knew the charm Which Fancy's bold touch !ds arise; The' in airy Perspective the colouring warm Is but seen for a moment--then dies, ......... Google

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