Page:Poems By Chauncy Hare Townshend.djvu/187

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MISCELLANEOUS While, thus, the absent and the Iov'd, With rapturous joy, we seem to greet, Oh, why should be the thought reprov'd, That soul with soul may truly meet ! 167 The face--the form of one held dear, Remembrance, haply, may pourtray, Or whisper to th' abstracted ear 'The voice of one, too far away; But these can ne'er afford .relief To those keen pangs, which absence gives, The fi, eeting. shadow m?cks our grief, It does, not breathetit never lives; It only wrings the soul anew, Convulsed with ineffectual pain, To think we may not--cannot view That face, or hear that voice again: But, Sleep, thy fond deceptive art Can all the warmth of life supply, To shadow substance can impart, To f. ancy's dreams, reality. ......... ?Google