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210 MISCELLAIqEOUS POEMS,, Wheeling in many a circle light, As if some merry, pigmy sprite Were, on free and frolic wing, With the breezes gambolling :. While that peculiar darkness spreads About the trees' umbrageous heads, Whose outlines most distinct appear, Seen against the horizon clear. Nor, when midnight's.solenm gloom O'erspreads my solitary room? Will I cease to talk with thee, Nature, lovely still to me. Thou my rising soul shalt bring To thy hear'n-enthroned king, From whose hands thy beauteous frame, In all it's bright perfection,came. ' Then, with orisons to Him, Sleep shall o'er mine eyelids swim; Tho' to thee inscribed these lays, His alone the genuine praise! ......... ?Google
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