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MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.
A lovely and a mirthful sound
Of laughter meets mine ear;
For the poor man's children sport around
On the turf, with nought to fear.
And roses lend that cabin's wall
A happy summer-glow;
And the open door stands free to all,
For it recks not of a foe.
And the village bells are on the breeze,
That stirs thy leaf, dark Tree!
How can I mourn, 'midst things like these,
For the stormy past, with thee?
