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POETRY.
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Transcript
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Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software. The text has not been manually corrected and should not be relied on to be an accurate representation of the item.
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N . ¦ &XNE 3 WRITTEN AT THE CLOSE OP AUTUlrtr . —— In meditation is his bliss , Whose gowfcr is Such that whom she lifts from earth , She makes familiar with a heaven unknown , And shews him glories yet to be revealed . Cow / fir * The soft blue tint that veils the distant hills . The browner horror creeping o ' er the wood ^ The peaceful stillness , that with rapid pace Steals o ' er the landscape , and ypn parting beam That from the sinking sun with purest gold Tips the red western heavens—tell of the closfe of day .
That peal of village bells , which on the breeze Borne heedless past , at measured intervals Salutes the ear ^ proclai ms the Sabbath-eve ; For so hath > ancient usage long ordained The day of rest right merrily shall £ lose . ~ The biting air , the variegated hue Of grove and woodland * leaves that fall in showers .
Tremble in air or rustle in the path , Foretell the year ' s decline . —So days and weeks And ydars , with quick and never-ceasing step , Run the set race of time , unnoticed , Unimproved .- —To the great goal of life Man presses on ; nor stops , nor cares to read This moral lesson , though in nature ' s page * B House , October 17 thf 1802 . J . T ,
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tONNET , WRITTEN SOON AFTER THE SUDDEN DEATH OF A . GREATLY BEHOVED INFANT , BY ITS * GRANDMOTHER , Awake my babe , awake ! the night is flown , Ope thy sweet eyes , and view another day * Alas 1 thy little cheek is pale and cold ! Ob ! let me to this throbbing bosom hold
Thy darling form . —Ah . me ! thy breath is gone ; And that dear form is changed to icy clay . Shall I no more behold thy tender smile * Feel thy soft touch , or hear thy infant voice ? O God i I bend submissive to thy power :
Support me in affliction ' s trying hour i (Faith shall my suffering bosom reconcile To what I know is just , because thy choice : Enable me , till life ' s last sand be run , To say , unmurmuring say , Thy will begone ** A * 13 U
Poetry.
POETRY .
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Citation
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Monthly Repository (1806-1838) and Unitarian Chronicle (1832-1833), Jan. 2, 1811, page 49, in the Nineteenth-Century Serials Edition (2008; 2018) ncse.ac.uk/periodicals/mruc/issues/vm2-ncseproduct2412/page/49/
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