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POEMS OF AN INTERVAL.

MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.

SECTION I.

THE RIVER.

A RIVER gushed forth from its grass-strewn source The soft green hills among,

And murmuring moved in meandering course

The flowery meads along,

And laughing, low lisped its flowing verse,

And rippled its silvery song.

Now it bounds along in bubbling rills,
And the glad vale owns its sway;

Now its drop the thirsty wild flower fills,
As it sprinkles around its spray;
And its heaving bosom joyously thrills
With the boon it bestows on its way.

So stealing thro' sentinel rushes it keeps,
The sloping banks that grace;

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While sweetly its sunlit water sleeps,
Where the arching boughs embrace;
And the lily, low bending, softly creeps,
To kiss its shining face.

Soon swelling in stream of wider spread,
No longer it shuns the plain,

But, deepening in its pebbly bed,

It dreams of the distant main;

And it scorns its first shy streamlet thread,
And it cuts the green hills in twain!

Now it pauses to paint the old church tower,
Embosom'd in the glade;

Now winding it skirts some blooming bower,

Where reposes the gentle maid:

And her charms she'll unveil in that languid hour, When none but the stream dare invade.

It has caught the gay gleams of the morning sun
Slanting down from yon woodland ridge;
And the crimsoned rays when his course is done,
When low flies some buzzing midge;

And the gaze of that blue-eyed little one,

Leaning over the rustic bridge.

Now it courses through Oxford's classic ground,

Where Thame and Isis meet;

Now 'tis twining the castled halls around

Of Windsor's royal seat:

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