Page:Poems By Chauncy Hare Townshend.djvu/41

 A DRAMATIC oDE. Meet him in each hour of leisure, And steal, and steal away his rkst. In some deep cave, with me refit'd, For long hours shall he sit and sigh, 'The future shall not be desit'd, ' ' The present shall not fix his eye. Fair occasions shall be croat, While on the past his soul shall re. use, And, as I tell of moments lost, Many more he still shall lose. Yet the more I work him ill, He shall claSp me closer still: Am not I the subtlest foe ? �Peace he cannot, shall not, know ! Feeling. By. the soreness of the soul, Which fr6m every touch doth shrink, Which mocks at Reason's sage controul, And drives the mind to madness' brink: Which pointseach light, sarcastic woiI Keener than a two-edged sword, And makes the pierc'd, resisting heart Quiver', and writhe beneath the smart, ......... Google

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