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TO E. D. G.
Dear wandering Ellee, five long nights and days
Sad thoughts of fear, and makes my spirit strong. Like the old bard and blind, who sent his song Complaining to the glorious orb of day,
E'en in this gloom of loneliness, a lay
I wake to thee, my light! unseen too long, And claim thy swift return, and blame the throng 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
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!
Of that deep ocean, whose far thunders break
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.