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MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. Behind the tall fir's sable trunk The half-orb lingers still, But now its latest curve is sunk Below the dark-blue hill. 141 I gaze, as if thou wert not gone, Or as my gifted eye Could follow too where thou art flown, And still thy path descry. To calmer realms thou seem'st to go, I would pursue thy flight, As if no care, nor pain, nor woe, Could track thy steps of light; Far from the cold, whose looks repel, The warm, whose words deceive; � The cruel, who can wound too well Hearts, that too much believe. From thine how different is my lot ! Soon, soon thy rising ray Will shine on lids, that open not To greet the opening day: ......... ?Google
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