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I DON'T know thee, Sorrow, Háve no wish to know thee, Dón't admire thy pále face Drooping líds and moist cheeks.

Yét methínks I 've seen thee
Áh! I now remember
Twice before I 've seen thee,
Dísmal, black - robed Sorrow.

First when on her deathbed
Láy my noble móther
Ánd with failing breath breathed
Blessings on her children,

Thére beside the deathbed
Í behéld thee, Sorrow,
Wring thy hands in ánguish,
And the scálding tear shed.

Next I saw thee, Sórrow,
Sítting bý my Ann Jane's
Néw - made moúnd sepulchral
in the vále of Sárca.

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“Then we'll sometimes meét, James,
As of old we mét oft,
And while we 're together
Think we've never párted.”

Flý fly, háted daylight!
Sweet night, come again quick!
Till again I meet her
Whó by daylight néver

Meets me since we párted
in the vale of Sárca
Would there were no dáylight,
Bút deep midnight ever!

TOURNAY (BELGIUM), Nov. 16, 1854.


WOULD not believe it,
Though a thoúsand swore it,
Thát the great and good God
Púnishes his creatures;

Why did hé so make them ---
That same great and good God
With those powerful pássions
Ánd that púny foresight?

Like the boiling láva,
Like the hówling tempest,
Like the rolling thủnder,
Like the flashing lightning,

Rúshing unexpected
Comes the passion on them;
Whén the pássion 's on them,
Where's the power to stay it?

Áh, the hápless creatures !
Hów they 're tórn and táttered
By the ráging pássions
Given them by the good God!

Lét it come more slówly,
Stealthily creep on them,
Still it comes as súrely,
Thé insidious pássion;

Coils itself about them,
Squeezes bones and marrow,
With its fángs their flésh nips,
Spírts its venom ón them.

Áh the hápless creatures
Bítten, squeezed and poisoned
By the vénomous pássions
Given them by the good God!

Hé it is I 'd púnish
Whó the passions gave them,
Nót the hápless creatures
Victims of the pássions.


Betrothed maiden sings.

WELCOME! welcome! welcome!
Pretty cléft-tailed swallow,
Twittering at my window
Just before the súnrise.

Where hast been all winter,
Pretty cléft-tailed swallow,
In what pleasant warm lands
Fár beyond the deep sea ?

Téll me hást thou seen him,
My hardhearted truelove,
Whó last aútumn léft me
Ánd took shipping southward;

Fór the south took shipping
And alóne here léft me
To watch for him always
Ánd look álways southward.

Yés yes, thoú hast seen him, Bring'st good tidings of him: Thát he 's well and happy; That he's homeward cóming;

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