116
KNICKERBOCKER GALLERY.
Yet ye have not all bereft me,
Parcæ, spurned from Lethe's shore;
This dear solace still is left me,
That I' ve seen her face once more!
And whatever hence betide me,
That fair vision, day and night,
Like a cynosure shall guide me
To her own blest Land of Light!
Parcæ, spurned from Lethe's shore;
This dear solace still is left me,
That I' ve seen her face once more!
And whatever hence betide me,
That fair vision, day and night,
Like a cynosure shall guide me
To her own blest Land of Light!
New-York, 1854.
