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TO A FRIEND WHO SENT ME SOME ROSES.
S late I rambled in the happy fields,
What time the skylark shakes the tremulous dew
From his lush clover covert; when anew Adventurous knights take up their dinted shields; I saw the sweetest flower wild nature yields,
A fresh-blown musk-rose; 'twas the first that threw
Its sweets upon the summer: graceful it grew As is the wand that queen Titania wields. And, as I feasted on its fragrancy,
I thought the garden-rose it far excell'd; But when, O Wells! thy roses came to me, My sense with their deliciousness was spell'd : Soft voices had they, that with tender plea Whisper'd of peace, and truth, and friendliness unquell'd.
TO MY BROTHER GEORGE.
ANY the wonders I this day have seen:
Who from the feathery gold of evening lean;
Its ships, its rocks, its caves, its hopes, its fears,
And she her half-discover'd revels keeping. But what, without the social thought of thee, Would be the wonders of the sky and sea?