76
And thy lip is mute, and thy knee unbending,
And where is the sweet prayer to heaven ascending."
What, slumbering still? arise! arise!
For thy lovely dreams are phantasies,
And mock thy waking—but come with me,
And listen to life's reality.
Oh! come and muse on that deeper sleep
O'er which hope will her silent vigils keep,
Ami soothe and shield, with her guardian wing,
The spirit's secret fluttering;
And lead it on to that brighter day,
Which knows no evening, and no decay!
And where is the sweet prayer to heaven ascending."
What, slumbering still? arise! arise!
For thy lovely dreams are phantasies,
And mock thy waking—but come with me,
And listen to life's reality.
Oh! come and muse on that deeper sleep
O'er which hope will her silent vigils keep,
Ami soothe and shield, with her guardian wing,
The spirit's secret fluttering;
And lead it on to that brighter day,
Which knows no evening, and no decay!
ON A LATE VIOLET.
Poor purple lingerer of the fading year,
Whose leaves of withering blue
Their dying sweetness drew
From suns more genial, and from skies more clear;
How tenderly and cold
Thy blossoms now unfold,
Their buds engemmed with winter's first cold tear;
Whose leaves of withering blue
Their dying sweetness drew
From suns more genial, and from skies more clear;
How tenderly and cold
Thy blossoms now unfold,
Their buds engemmed with winter's first cold tear;
