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STANZAS.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

STANZAS.

No longer will I weep or sigh:
Though many a bramble cross my way,
If, but a violet, blossoms by,
Its fragrance shall my pains repay.
Though many a dark and thickening cloud
Has frowned from morning's earliest beam,
Yet sometimes, bursting from its shroud,
Their smiles, though faint, a lovely gleam.

60

Retain the power to vibrate still
At slightest, gentlest, breath, my heart!
Ah! happy if thou yet canst feel,
Although forever doomed to smart.