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WRITTEN IN THE EMPTY HOUSE OF A FRIEND, ON THE FAMILY QUITTING TOWN.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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WRITTEN IN THE EMPTY HOUSE OF A FRIEND, ON THE FAMILY QUITTING TOWN.

While gleams the moon-light on the naked walls,
Pale Fancy in her shroud seems flitting by,
And mourning Mem'ry many a scene recalls,
And all the passing shadows seem to sigh.
As from their graves, and this their spot belov'd,
The Ghosts of buried Happiness appear;
Spectres of Joys entomb'd, or far remov'd,
While Friendship views them with a tender tear.
Yet Hope still rises to disperse the gloom,
And gently bids her new-born sunbeams play;
Whispers that fond Affection still shall bloom,
And the Heart follows where she leads the way.