103
And bade the slumbering fancy, roused once more,
In numbers wild those inward feelings pour!
Yes, as I lingering trace each simple strain,
Time, place, e'en vanished sounds, return again;
'Till I can live in thought those bygone years,
With all their joys and sorrows, hopes and fears,
And feel as then the lights or shadows play
That chequered o'er full many a long-past day:
And when perchance thy gentle eye may fall
On these light leaves, wilt thou not then recall
Some hour of converse spent together here,
To memory, or at least to me, most dear?
In numbers wild those inward feelings pour!
Yes, as I lingering trace each simple strain,
Time, place, e'en vanished sounds, return again;
'Till I can live in thought those bygone years,
With all their joys and sorrows, hopes and fears,
And feel as then the lights or shadows play
That chequered o'er full many a long-past day:
And when perchance thy gentle eye may fall
On these light leaves, wilt thou not then recall
Some hour of converse spent together here,
To memory, or at least to me, most dear?
Since last we met, how doubly swift and light
The wings of time have seemed to press their flight!
Till now I scarce can think it all is past,
And that sad hour is come when we at last
Must feel that every pleasure brings its pain,
And part once more,—oh! when to meet again?
Yes, when shall we together gladly stray
'Mid scenes where happiest hours have passed away:
Trace every well-known spot on hill and plain,
And breathe the air that thrills our hearts again?
'Tis vain to ask; no mortal tongue can tell.
Then must I breathe at last a sad farewell,
In treasured hope, before another year
Has passed away, with joy to meet thee here.
And oh! may every blessing earth can know,
On thy dear head in streams of bounty flow,
And nought e'er dim the chain that binds us now,
In friendship's purest bond and warmest glow.
E.
The wings of time have seemed to press their flight!
Till now I scarce can think it all is past,
And that sad hour is come when we at last
Must feel that every pleasure brings its pain,
And part once more,—oh! when to meet again?
Yes, when shall we together gladly stray
'Mid scenes where happiest hours have passed away:
Trace every well-known spot on hill and plain,
And breathe the air that thrills our hearts again?
'Tis vain to ask; no mortal tongue can tell.
Then must I breathe at last a sad farewell,
In treasured hope, before another year
Has passed away, with joy to meet thee here.
And oh! may every blessing earth can know,
On thy dear head in streams of bounty flow,
And nought e'er dim the chain that binds us now,
In friendship's purest bond and warmest glow.
E.
Glasslough, March 3, 1837.
