Page:Poems By Chauncy Hare Townshend.djvu/217

 'POEMS�or, grant that tyrants frown, sweet childhood ! 'on thy reigo, And a spirit, touch'd too finely, tums all thei_frowns .to pain, Th.e secret ofthy joy their surest arrows miss, 'Tis innocenee that makes thy freshness and thy bliss. Perhaps he mourns thee !ess, to whom thy mirth and play Were as the shining lapse of one long summer-day; 'More lovely seem the wreaths, that bloom on ruin'd ' towers, And brightest is the blue sky seen, when it serifs thunder-showers. 0 Memory, on my couch--when the w[nd's wild fingers grasp, With the fury of a Rend, the rattling window-clasp-- Rock'd to thy dreams, reclin'd with sleepless eye, I talk with thee, at midnight, of the days that are gone byl.. And, when the clouds of Autumn, in their wildness as they o11, With feeling, thought, and poeray, imbue/ay inmost I see thee iu the cloud, I hear thee iu the blast, And muse myself to mdness o'er the times for ever past. ......... .Google

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