The Massachusetts spy. [volume] (Worcester [Mass.]) 1821-1823, 1821-06-13
POETRY.
From the Norihsrn W,hig.l
MIN.
Ns.NE

anu upwards as ne turn'o ms eye,
The sun IN all his glory play'd.
Swiftly on times unceasing course
Flaps his boyhood's day,
Unstain'd by anguish or remorse,
But unprofan'd and gay.
O.. those were life's enchanted hours.
When innocence and truth
Sprung round his heart, like Edcn-fowers,
And led him into youth.
Youth came-and with it came the pride
And noble impulse of the breast,
That each unworthy deed def'd,
And each unworthy thought Suppressed.
And in his heart was holiness
The consciousness of worth
How proudly did his footstep press
Along the pilgrimage of earth
Then-pleasure, when his heart was warm,
Her masick fetters Ger him threw
His arms enclos'd her lovely form,
Nor reclx'd he how the moments few.
Soon--soon he wakea'd from his dream,
He broke her golden chain
Upon his soul truth pour'd her beam,
And he was sinless, pure, again.
He lov'd-and his was such a love
1t seem'd not Of a mortal mind,
But caught from heavens shrine above.
So fond, so feryent and Refn'd.
And as be watch'd her winning smile
That play'd in pensive loye1iness,
He well BELIEVED it could beguile
Lies deepest, most severe distress.
He loy'd-aye. and he was BELOVED
With woman's fond sincerity
That heart shrunk not when fortune moy'd
Her night-clouds Ger his destiny,
But rum darkly overspread
It's ivy on loves wreath of bloom,
Until it's freshness all had fled
1t seem'd a chaplet for the tomb.
She faded from him, like theleaf
In autumn's melancholy bower
Oh, none may know his heartfelt grief
The anguish of his lonely hour:
IN silent wo he saw her laid
Lowly beneath the burial clod--
And oft at eventide he st<ay'd
To battle with tears her grassy sod,
And then he rais'd his eve aloft
To heavens blue arch serenely fair,
While deep affection whispered soft
That worshipp'd one was blooming there.
But where were loves delighted hours
In dark obliVion's night
Where were his early CHERISHED Aowerss
Swept by untimely blight.
There came shadow DER his soul,
The past he coldly spurn'd,
Shook from his memoiy's control,
And to the future t,nn'd;
With hope less warm, but not subdu,d,
He mix'd in life once more,
With energy of heart renew'd,
But less confding than before.
And now he press'd with heart of fame
In the wild struggle of mankind,
To win the evergreens of fame,
And round his brow the wreath to bind :
His idol-hcnour;- aobly proud,
lmpetuously he bore him on,
To raise on high above the crowd
And wear that idol honour's crown.
But wither'd hope around him chung,
Cold as the pail around the bier
And fortunes clouds above him hung,
Like wintrY shadows DER the year.
He paus'd him in the noon of life
Reviewed the chequer'd course be ran.
The busy scenes of earthly strife
That form'd the youth into the,man.
And gone was all that Iightsomeness
And buoyancy of thought
His soul had met with rude distress
And borne it as he ought.
His memory told of hopes deceiv'd-
OF faded dreams of bliss
OF Joys he vainly had BELIEVED
Were in a world so drear as this
At last his sun began to set,
Lies ev'ning shadows fell
But hope was IN his bosom yet,
Nor could she bid farewell.
But twas holier hope that sprung
Within this light of gloom
Around the shFoudits glory hung
It's beam play'd on the tomb.
Then calmness and soft peace came DER
His long distracted breast,
And agonizing pain no more
Its burning seal impressed.
And when life's pulses ceas'd to play,
The storms of being past,
He laid him down beneath the clay,
And peace was his at last.
FLoRIo.
EPTGR.a.N
DICKS wife was sick, and past the Doctors skill.
Who difier'd how to cure th' invetersste i'll.
f'using the one prescnb'd, No, quoth the
other,
That will do neither good nor harm, deal
sHotber--
Blssding's the only thing.-'Twas quick re.