When grey Eve steals along the Western sky,
Musing I climb the headland's craggy steep ;
Gaze on the bosom of the tranquil deep,
And watch the white clouds that beneath me fly.
Or when the pale-moon's cold and pensive ray
Breaks softly o'er the dusky brow of night ;
I love to view her dancing chequer'd light,
O'er the wide world of waters sweetly stray.
Then comes the memory of other hours,
When on a scene like this I've paused--the while,
Friendship would cheer me with her beamy smile,
And young-eyed Fancy cull her wildest flow'rs.
Oh ! that as flies, the dew-drop from each blade,
Life's mantling spring-tide from the soul should fade!
Laura Sophia Temple (1805!)
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