Page:Poems By Chauncy Hare Townshend.djvu/213

 MI$CLLANEOilS POEMS'. And who is tha I .see reclind Bad beneath you blasted pine ? A lovely fo lies eoM side,- As if but yesght it died. His lips e glu t 0 that pale coe Wi psion's maddest, wildest, for. No he half ws' bk to e Wi looks innse; en feebly lays On that still bret his he once,more, And seems  pt conls all o'er. Now he bu his'ish'd , Wder ws his.restless gi. With wn li, d eyes upturn'd, And k brow,  d there bum'd A e wi'his hrt d brn, Of raMdear,' wildest, knt, pn, Wing he heaves dp-laur'd sighs,' en   his skg ey On e !ov'd clay,- wi sny se,  ifhls life we ced ere. Oh, who such height of woe eod prove, Or lk such lks of soul, but ve  Wt me phantom still doth urn, Around you mb, his helong course, o

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