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Sketches in verse

with prose illustrations. By Mr. Polwhele. Second edition, with several additional pieces

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77

TO COLMA.

All is in silence husht. Where broke
The storm, behold the ravag'd dale:
While leaves the tinctured streamlet choak,
Its banks are mark'd by circlets pale.
Yet lo! the star of evening beams
From the dark cloud emerging bright:
And the dale cheer'd by pity seems;
Its freshen'd verdure drinks delight.
But when from Love's tempestuous whirl
I rest a moment, woe is me!
Alas! I catch, relentless girl,
Of pity not a ray from thee!
And O! that still suspence, my fair,
Is but the pause of blank despair!—
 

Fairy circles, probably occasioned by lightning.