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14
TO THE REV. J. W. H.
Far from folly, far from men,
In the rude romantic glen,
Up the cliff, and thro' the glade,
Wand'ring with the dear-lov'd maid,
I shall listen to the lay,
And ponder on thee far away!
Still, as she bids those thrilling notes aspire
("Making my fond attuned heart her lyre")
Thy honor'd form, my Friend! shall re-appear,
And I will thank thee with a raptur'd tear.
