Page:The Amulet for 1826.pdf/294



Oh life, what wouldst thou be, but that thine end Has hope!

heart hath turned away
 * From its early dream;

To me its course has been
 * Like a mountain stream.

Pure and clear it left
 * Its place of birth;

But soon on every wave
 * Were taints of earth.

Weeds grew upon the banks,
 * And as the waters swept

A bad or useless part,
 * Of all they kept