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THOUGHTS ON A BALL ROOM.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


208

THOUGHTS ON A BALL ROOM.

Think not I view'd with vacant soul
That glittering scene of life and mirth;
Reflection o'er my being stole,
And gave me thoughts not born for earth.
The strongest beam of sunny days
Shows not the ocean's treasur'd store,
Nor could you, mid that dazzling blaze,
Perceive my heart's religious lore.
That eve, amid those airy forms,
I thought of Him who tints the rose,
Reveals the rainbow after storms,
And in the western sunset glows;
Of Him who gave the elastic tread,
The eye of fire, the manly glow,
The cheek where roses make their bed,
The pencill'd lid, the brow of snow.

209

And I felt grateful for the grace
Which youth and beauty throw around—
The buoyant air, the mind-lit face,
The charm of sight, the joy of sound.
Nor fear'd I, that those sunny hours
Would scorch the buds of pious bloom,
More than I fear that woodland flowers
In gay parterres will lose perfume.
Nor did I chill with aspect grave,
Those eyes, which soon may droop with tears,
Those hearts, where yet in grief must wave
The cypress shade of coming years.
One gentle caution kindly given
I could have breath'd to every ear—
Enjoy; but O, forget not Heaven—
Enjoy; but seek a nobler sphere.