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Young Love.
It seems a dream the infant love
That tamed my truant will,
But 'twas a dream of happiness,
And I regret it still!
Its images are part of me,
A very part of mind—
Feelings and fancies beautiful
In purity combined!
Time's sunset lends a tenderer tinge
To what those feelings were,
Like the cloud-mellow'd radiance
Which evening landscapes bear:
They wedded are unto my soul,
As light is blent with heat,
Or as the hallowed confluence
Of air with odours sweet.
