Page:Poems Sigourney 1827.pdf/201

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What mad resolves,—what deep-laid schemes What fancies bold and free,— What dazzling hopes, and airy dreams Were born and died with thee.

Then wouldst thou chide her idle rhyme, Who lolling thus at ease, Mispends the untold wealth of time In lays so light as these.

 

—Come,—let me turn Through yon green avenue,—and musing walk Where sleep the silent dead.—Ah! what a throng Have lent their fleshly vestures to the worm Beneath these shades.—Here first, the forest sons Buried their lifeless brethren,—ere the feet Of our pale race invaded them,—to die. —First to thy pillow,—not with stranger step I rove,—dear Benefactress!—thou whose voice To "virtue, glory, and eternal life" Allured my childhood.—With what gentle hand Thou from obscurity's deep shadows drew Thy favour'd one,—touching her unform'd mind With love of knowledge,—as Prometheus shed Heaven's flame upon the statue of his love. Ah!—many a year of changes and of cares Have taught the world's hard lesson, since thine eye Bade me farewell,—yet still to thee I turn 