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MISCELLANEOUS PO EMil. Oh, when it springs from lips we love, In nature's simple lattgua?e drest, What joy, so near to those above, Can breathe its rapture o'er the breast? So well the kindred sounds have stirr'd Th' awaken'd heart's responsive tone, It deems it must before have heard A melody, so like its own; And yit we know, that joy so sweet Did never yet its pulses thrill, Else 'till this hour it had not beat So lonely, and so weary still. 169 LINES COMPOSED IN A CATHEDRAL.' Wmx.?. rapt I listen to the mellow'd sound Of the full voices, and the organ's peal, Remembrance calls her shadowy train ?.round, With all, that bids the wither'd bosom feel. ......... ?Google
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