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Spirits who suffered at that hour
For freedom and for faith!
Her faith and freedom crushed ;
And like a giant from his sleep
Ye saw when France awoke;
And ye had joy in heaven!
Its glossy leaves
Below, a circling fence, its leaves are seen,
Wrinkled and keen;
Can reach to wound;
I love to view these things with curious eyes,
Can emblem see
4. Thus, though abroad perchance I might appear
Harsh and austere,
Reserved and rude,
5. And should my youth, as youth is apt I know,
Some harshness show,
Would wear away,
So bright and green,
Less bright than they,
But when the bare and wintry woods we see, What then so cheerful as the Holly-tree?
7. So serious should my youth appear among
The thoughtless throng;
Slowly thy flowing tide Came in, old Avon! Scarcely did mine eyes, As watchfully I roamed thy greenwood-side,
Perceive its gentle rise.
With many a stroke and strong The laboring boatmen upward plied their oars ; Yet little way they made, though laboring long
Between thy winding shores.
Now down thine ebbing tide
And sings an idle song.
Now o'er the rocks, that lay
Through wider-spreading shores.
Avon! I gaze, and know
So rapidly decay.
Kingdoms which long have stood, And slow to strength and power attained at last, Thus from the summit of high Fortune's flood
They ebb to ruin fast.
Thus like thy flow appears Time's tardy course to manhood's envied stage ; Alas, how hurryingly the ebbing years
Then hasten to old age! WESTBURY, 1799.
THE COMPLAINTS OF THE POOR.
· And wherefore do the Poor complain? ”
The Rich Man asked of me:
6 And I will answer thee.”
'Twas evening, and the frozen streets
Were cheerless to behold;
And we were wrapt and coated well,
And yet we were a-cold.
We met an old, bareheaded man;
His locks were thin and white : I asked him what he did abroad
In that cold winter's night.
The cold was keen indeed, he said ;
But at home no fire had he, And therefore he had come abroad
To ask for charity.
We met a young, barefooted child,
And she begged loud and bold: I asked her what she did abroad
When the wind it blew so cold.
She said her father was at home,
And he lay sick abed ;
Abroad to beg for bread.
We saw a woman sitting down
Upon a stone to rest;
And another at her breast.
I asked her why she loitered there
When the night-wind was so chill :