Page:Poems Brown.djvu/21

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poems.
15
"But fading is my coronet,
While brighter grows my crown;
Now all my painful tasks are o'er,
Gladly I lay me down."

I looked around in vain surprise
To clasp a mournful form;
But I, alas, was all alone
My vision—it had gone.

Next morn the breezes whispered mild,
The bells were ringing clear,
Proclaiming, with a joyful sound,
The birth of the glad "New Year."