Page:The Grave, a poem, 1808 (1903).djvu/39

Rh Sweet'ner of life! and solder of society! I owe thee much. Thoa hast deserv'd from me Far, far beyond what I can ever pay. Oft have I prov'd the labours of thy love, And the warm efforts of the gentle heart. Anxious to please. O! when my friend and I In some thick wood have wander'd heedless on. Hid from the vulgar eye; and sat us down Upon the sloping cowslip-cover'd bank. Where the pure limpid stream has slid along In grateful errors through the under-wood. Sweet murm'ring; methought the shrill-tongu'd thrush Mended his song of love; the sooty blackbird Mellow'd his pipe, and soften'd every note; The eglantine smell'd sweeter, and the rose Assum'd a dye more deep; whilst every flower Vied with its fellow plant in luxury Of dress. O! then the longest summer's day Seem'd too, too much in haste; still the full heart Had not imparted half: 'twas happiness Too exquisite to last! Of joys departed. Not to return, how painful the remembrance!


 * Dull Grave! thou spoil'st the dance of youthful blood,

Strik'st out the dimple from the cheek of mirth,