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UNPATHOMABLE Sea! whose waves are years,
Ocean of Time, whose waters of deep woe
Thou shoreless floud, which in thy ebb and how
Who shall put forth on thee,
That time is dead for ever, child,
We look on the past,
And stare aghast
To death on life's dark river.
The stream we gazed on then rolled by;
But we yet stand
In a lone land,
In the light of life's dim morning.
A widow bird sate mourning for her love
Upon a wintry bough; The frozen wind crept on above,
The freezing stream below.
There was no leaf upon the forest bare,
No flower upon the ground, And little motion in the air
Except the mill-wheel's sound.
THE WORLD'S WANDERERS.
Tell me, thou star, whose wings of light
Will thy pinions close now?
Tell me, moon, thou pale and grey
Seekest thou repose now?
Weary wind, who wanderest
On the tree or billow?
Rough wind, that moanest loud
Grief 100 sad for song ; Wild wind, when sullen cloud
Knells all the night long ; Sad storm, whose tears are vain, Bare woods, whose branches stain, Deep caves and dreary main,
Wail, for the world's wrong :
Far, far away, O ye
Halcyons of memory, Seek some far calnier nest Than this abandoned breast;No views of your false spring To my heart's winter bring ; Once having gone, in vain
Ye come again.
Vultures, who build your bowels High in the Future's towers, Withered hopes on hopes are spread, Dying joys, choked by the dead, Will serve your beaks for prey
Many a day.
DIRGE FOR THE YEAR.
ORPHAN bours, the year is dead,
Come and sigh, come and weep!
For the year is but asleep.
As an earthquake rocks a corse
In its coffin in the clay,
Rocks the dead-cold year to-day;
As the wild air stirs and sways
The tree-swung cradle of a child,
Rocks the year:-be calm and mild,
January grey is here,
Like a sexton by lier grave;
March with grief doth howl and rave,
Follow with May's fairest flowers, January 1st, 1821.