SEYERAL OCCASIONS, 109 Plies to the well-kn0wn cot Of lowly thatch, And lifts, with eagei hand, the yielding latch. 'Tis she !--In pensive posture bends she o'er The wheel, her hand forgetful turns no more. Pale is her cheek--her tearful eyes are dim; �Oh, pin'd that cheek--Oh, wept those eyes for him ? Forward he springs to clasp her to his breast, To kiss each tear to smiles--each woe to rest. Ah, then, too late to stay his parting breath, His eyes wild open, but to close in death ! The severing waves receive his headlong corse, And o'er it swing with murmur, low and hoarSe, As if they moum'd above the friendless bi er, Where sigh shall never breathv shall flow no tear. Peace to thy soul ! Ah, wherefore is not mine Lost to regret, and sorrow's pang, like thine ! SOLITUDE. THe. bird, that sings, on yonder spray, His vesper to departing day, He has a mate his nest to share, And wing with him the realms of air.. ......... ?Google
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