Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1837-05-19
Printed by Request.]
MUSINGS.


b "a grief that Gains the spirit which it breaks"
There is something far more independent
in sorrow than in pleasure; which ieeing,
we presume, arises from the fact, that how
ever doubtful we may be of the continuance
OF the one, we are never troubled with the
fear of being deprived of the consolation OF
the other. Pleasure is bird of passage /;
it comes with the calm and goes with the
storm allure it as you may you cannot in
duce it to flourish out OF a congenlal atmos-
phere; for though, by an unnatural effort,
it may claim an occasional ascendancy in
the abode of two, still, it looks so sickly the
while, and its smile so much resembles
sneer in mockery of its former SELF that
like the medicine OF quack or the defence
of false friend, it is less Of solace than
disease On the other hand, substantial
sorrow will last man for lfe-wil be the
partner of his pillow and the companion Of
his toll and should pleasure at times step
in to divide its empire, her presence only
serves to show douby forth the influence of
the opposing power, on the same principle
that hasty sojourn at comfortable fire.
tends but to enhance the sufferings Of the
frost-bitten traveller.
But while sorrow rejects the society Of
pleasure (save only in its paroxysms,) it
frequently begets feeling far more akin TO
happiness. This feeling is melancholy
one of the most delicio Gus sensations Of the
human heart. 1t neither laughs nor weeps,
sinks nor rudely scars its most visible ef-
fects are pensive smile, or a stealing tear !;
it is a rich, proud, deep, holy, sunset feeling,
that falls upon the soul, as soft and refresh
ingly as the dew of heaven upon the moss
rose, which at once revives its colors, closes
its petals, and soothes it into rest.
Sunset is the time to revel in such feel
ing rich, warm, autumn sunset, when the
yellow leaves, more beautiful in their decay,
than in their bloom, are whitening and rust
ling and falling; when many colored clouds
hang festooned over the golden west, meet
drapery for the chamber of the sun when
the busy noon-tide hum of men is succeeded
by the low poetic murmur of nature, and
when man himself can most easily turn
from his humiiating but predominant feel
ings Of ACKNOWLEDGMENT to contemplate the
wonderful architecture of his God
At such time, and under the influence
of such train of thoughts as it invariably
PtouuOCS, 'Hc hO'noiy vi past So''oWS oSeubs
TO enhance the loneliness of the present
scene the apathy of the world-dead or
absent friends 1t is true the hour inspires
no terrestrial hopes, but it is equally true that
in such an hour we require them not =
death seems beautiful all nature appears
conspired to invest it with a garb OF glory,
and every thing seems emblematic OF its
power the fading hills-the sinking sun
the dying trees; and from those the heart
imbibes the desire to lie down and be at rest
with the beautiful. and the memory OF past
suherings, and of friends whom we can see
no longer here, douby reconcile us to the
choice
Oh let me live while skies are blue,
And ieauty glades my every view;-
When daylight bids the world adieu,
Then let me, let me leave il too. M.