MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. Survivors claim'el the bitterest of our tears; And we had sorrows that were all our own; We, who had cherish'el hopes for future years, Too 1on? indul?'d, too soon, alas ! o'erthrown. But thee, the age-worn monarch of thesa re_hims, Thyself survivor of each dearest tie, We mourn not with the sorrow that o'erwhelms, But with the silent tear of memory. It is not now the blossom in it3 prime, Torn in fresh vigour from its parent root, Start'ring on vernal gales, before its time, The golden promise of expected fruit; It is the Oak, once monarch of the glade, That lives again in many a circling tree, Itcelf, all branchless, sapless, and decay'd, Bows to its full, completed destiny. Thy sun was not eclilm*ci in sudden night, But ran its course, and slowly verging set; Preparing shadows had involved its light, And sto!'n the poignant anguish'of regret. ......... ?Google
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