Through life’s dull road, so dim and dirty,

One last long sigh to love and thee,Then back to busy life again.It suits me well to mingle nowWith things that never pleased before!Though every joy is fled below,What future grief can touch me more?Then bring me wine, the banquet bring;Man was not form’d to live alone:I’ll be that light, unmeaning thingThat smiles with all,…

‘Tis not on youth’s smooth cheek the blush alone, which fades so fast,But the tender bloom of heart is gone, ere youth itself be past.Then the few whose spirits float above the wreck of happinessAre driven o’er the shoals of guilt, or ocean of excess:The magnet of their course is gone, or only points in…

Whose shrines are desolate, whose land a dream,Weep for the harp of Judah’s broken shell–Mourn–where their God that dwelt-the Godless dwell!II.And where shall Israel lave her bleeding feet?And when shall Zion’s songs agains seem sweet?And Judah’s melody once more rejoiceThe hearts that leap’d before its heavenly voice?III.Tribes of the wandering foot and weary breast!How shall…

And like music on the watersIs thy sweet voice to me:When, as if its sound were causingThe charméd ocean’s pausing,The waves lie still and gleaming,And the lull’d winds seem dreaming:And the midnight moon is weavingHer bright chain o’er the deep,Whose breast is gently heavingAs an infant’s asleep:So the spirit bows before theeTo listen and adore…

Then rise on the gale this the last of my lays,The coldest effusion which springs from my heart.This bosom, responsive to rapture no more,Shall hush thy wild notes, nor implore thee to sing;The feelings of childhood, which taught thee to soar,Are wafted far distant on Apathy’s wing.Though simple the themes of my rude flowing Lyre,Yet…

But my Hippocrene was but my breast,And my feelings (its fountain) are dry.Were I now as I was, I had sungWhat Lawrence has painted so well;But the strain would expire on my tongue,And the theme is too soft for my shell.I am ashes where once I was fire,And the bard in my bosom is dead;What…