A book of English poetry; ed. by T. Shorter

toDB OJ' llli:J'L&C7l'IO!r .AJID 8DTJlDDI'l'. 181

WoULD that I were a river,

To wander all alone

Through some sweet Eden or the wild,

In music of my own;

And bathed in bliu, and fed with dew,

Diatill'd o'er m.ount&ins hoary,

Return unto my home in heaven,

On wings of joy and glory I

Or that I were a akylark,
To soar and sing above,
Filling all hearts with joyful aounda,
And my own soul with love I
Then o'er the mourner and the dead,
.AJ.ad o'er the good man dying;
My song should come like budS and Bowen,
Wben muaie warbles 11.ying.

0, that a wing of splendour,
Like yon wild cloud, w er e mine I
Yon bounteous cloud, tba.t get& to give,
.And borrowa to reaign I
On that bright wing, to climes of spring,
ro bear all wintry bosoms,
And bid Hope emile on weeping thoughts,
Like April on her bloasoma.
Eu.torr.

iorrDIDs.

Ft.owns by heedle1111 foot.atepa prest,

All their sweeta surrender;

Gold must brook the fiery test,

Ere it show ita splendour.

St&ra come forth when Night her ahroud

Draws, as daylight Cainteth;

Only on the tearful cloud,

God his rain bow paintat.b.