 | Remains of the Rev. Carlos Wilcox . |  |
'Tis morn once more, and morning with my song.
The muse awakes from her long nightly dream,
And summons truth to interpret it by day.
If she divine aright, to such as seek
For solitude and peace in scenes like these,
A mild delirium to enjoy secure
And nurse a tender gloom, it bodes no good,
But useless life and miserable age.
The muse awakes from her long nightly dream,
And summons truth to interpret it by day.
If she divine aright, to such as seek
For solitude and peace in scenes like these,
A mild delirium to enjoy secure
And nurse a tender gloom, it bodes no good,
But useless life and miserable age.
| Remains of the Rev. Carlos Wilcox . | |