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TO E. D. G.
Dear wandering Ellee, five long nights and days
Of those dear eyes, whose softest glance allays
I wake to thee, my light! unseen too long,
Of circumstance, that keeps thee thus away.
Dear as the light to orbs long blind, shall be The first bright ray thine eyes shall send to me!
TO E. D. G.
Ellee! the sky is dark; and cold and drear
The night-wind groans through many a frozen bough;
Pity the wretch who homeless wanders now, No light to guide him, and no friend to cheer. While the full world holds on its deaf career,
And thoughtless wassail thinks the hours too fast, He lonely struggles with the stormy blast, Or stumbling, makes the icy ground his bier.
Such, Ellee, I, if thou should'st leave my side, A wanderer lonely in a frozen night,
The life of life henceforth to me denied, My path were darkness, 'mid the noonday light. Earth were too poor to yield a spot so blest, Where, reft of thee, this heart might be at rest.
Poet of the thoughtful brow! far-sighted seer!
Heard from the earth a still sad music rise,
But most thou lov'st, with solemn steps, to take Down through the awful chambers of the soul Thy dreadful way, and hear the billows roll Of that deep ocean, whose far thunders break Upon the everlasting shores, and wake
Echoes that wiser make whom they control.
Thy song sublime the tinkling charms disdains
Or ocean round his rock-bound shores complains.
Of shouting angels and the empyreal thrones," Nor louder Erebus, nor chaos old,
Thy chiefest haunt; but with sublimer tones, Through the dark caverns of the mind are rolled The mighty thunders of thy master lyre.
AN INFANT'S EPISTLE.
Wee Ellee G. thanks auntie A.
Her little head, while round and on it,
Die vitæ 22.
Anno Domini, 1844.