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30O SON NETS. �I. ON FINDING A BOOK, WHICH HAD BEEN LONG LAID BY. DBLIOH? O? childhood, as I once again. Turn thy loved leaves, how many a tender thought And soft emotion rises, deeply fraught With not unpleasing pensiveness and pain ! Thou wak'st the first, and lo, a longslong train Of recollections to my view are brought, Of recollections, that I oft have sought 'Mid the dark annals of the past, in vain: Yes, Memory, I confess thy fond controul ! All freshly colour'd by thy brightest ray, Shades of'departed joys fleet o'er my soul, Fair as the clouds, that oft, at close of. day, O'er evening's melancholy bosom roll; Alas, as unsubstantial too, as they! ......... ?Google
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