. The poetical works of Fitz-Greene Halleck : Now first collected ; illustrated with steel engravings, from drawings by American artists . sing day I love thee closer;Has thought grown dim? thy locks grown gray? Thou answerst no, nd yet to prove a recreant!—Bright poesys best beloved gallant, To turn a grocer ! By the gay wandrings of thy muse, 111 neer forgive thee;Each golden prize thy brain pursues, Fleet, and deceive thee—By heavn, my breast the falsehood spurnsBozzaris! Fanny! Alnwick! Burns! Ill not believe thee. Where is the bird of summer song Would seek a cage,Though bruised and
. The poetical works of Fitz-Greene Halleck : Now first collected ; illustrated with steel engravings, from drawings by American artists . sing day I love thee closer;Has thought grown dim? thy locks grown gray? Thou answerst no, nd yet to prove a recreant!—Bright poesys best beloved gallant, To turn a grocer ! By the gay wandrings of thy muse, 111 neer forgive thee;Each golden prize thy brain pursues, Fleet, and deceive thee—By heavn, my breast the falsehood spurnsBozzaris! Fanny! Alnwick! Burns! Ill not believe thee. Where is the bird of summer song Would seek a cage,Though bruised and faint, with battling long The tempests rage ?Couldst thou then, free! with soul of fire !Forsake the muse—unstring thy lyre, Grasping like age ? No more of trade, but bid the muse Of Fanny wake,And glittering with Castalian dews, Her pinions shake!Fame shall regild her favorite one,And classic bakers stamp thee on Their new-year cake! Tag. A POETS DAUGHTER. 95 My spirits wings are weak, the fire Poetic comes but to expire, Her name needs not my humble lyre To bid it live; She hath already from her sire All bard can give. CONNECTICUT. FROM AN UNPUBLISHED POEM. The woods in which we had dwelt pleasantly rustled their green leaves in thesong, and our streams were there with the sound of all their waters. Montrose. I. still her gray rocks tower above the sea That crouches at their feet, a conquered wave;Tis a rough land of earth, and stone, and tree, Where breathes no castled lord or cabined slave;Where thoughts, and tongues, and hands are bold and free, And friends will find a welcome, foes a grave;And where none kneel, save when to heaven they pray,Nor even then, unless in their own way.
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1850, bookidpoeticalworksoff001hall
