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Away; we know that tears are vain,
That death nor heeds nor hears distress: Will this unteach us to complain?
Or make one mourner weep the less? And thou-who tell'st me to forget, Thy looks are wan, thine eyes are wet.
MY SOUL IS DARK.
My soul is dark-Oh! quickly string
Its melting murmurs o'er mine ear.
That sound shall charm it forth again; If in these eyes there lurk a tear,
"Twill flow, and cease to burn my brain :
But bid the strain be wild and deep,
And ached in sleepless silence long;
I SAW THEE WEEP.
I SAW thee weep-the big bright tear
And then methought it did appear
I saw thee smile-the sapphire's blaze
It could not match the living rays
That fill'd that glance of thine.
As clouds from yonder sun receive
Which scarce the shade of coming eve
Can banish from the sky,
Those smiles unto the moodiest mind
Their own pure joy impart; Their sunshine leaves a glow behind That lightens o'er the heart.
THY DAYS ARE DONE.
THY days are done, thy fame begun;
The triumphs of her chosen Son,
The slaughters of his sword!
Though thou art fall'n, while we are free
Thou shalt not taste of death!
The generous blood that flow'd from thee
Disdain'd to sink beneath:
Within our veins its currents be,