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A thousand gorgeous clouds on high Burn with the amber light;— What spell, from that rich pageantry, Chains down thy gazing sight?

A softening thought of human cares, A feeling link'd to earth! Is not yon speck a bark, which bears The lov'd of many a hearth? Oh! do not Hope, and Grief, and Fear, Crowd her frail world even now, And manhood's prayer and woman's tear, Follow her venturous prow?

Bright are the floating clouds above, The glittering seas below; But we are bound by cords of love To kindred weal and wo.