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up thy head, thou timid voyager! Vex'd by the storm-clouds, as they darkly roll, And by the fiercely tossing waves, that stir Thy slender root, and try thy trembling soul.

Sad change from thy sweet garden, where the dew Each morning glisten'd in thy grateful eye, And where no rougher guest thy bosom knew, Than quiet bee, or gadding butterfly.

It grieves me sore to see thy leaflets fade, Wearing the plague-spot of the ocean spray, And know what trouble I for thee have made, Who bore thee from thy native haunt away; Though, in thy life, I seem to hold the chain Of home and its delights, here on the pathless main.