Poems, on sacred and other subjects and songs, humorous and sentimental: By the late William Watt. Third edition of the songs only--with additional songs |
 |
|
|
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
| 6. |
| 7. |
| 8. |
| 9. |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. | VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
|
 | Poems, on sacred and other subjects |  |
VII.
Come, wayworn stranger, come, repose;
Life's thorns elude, and pull the rose
Which in fair Wisdom's garden grows,
Even love and immortality.
Life's thorns elude, and pull the rose
Which in fair Wisdom's garden grows,
Even love and immortality.
For vice, the syren, to her bower
Thee lures, thy spirit to devour;
So, fly from her enchanting power,
And shun her woeful destiny.
Thee lures, thy spirit to devour;
So, fly from her enchanting power,
And shun her woeful destiny.
Ascend to Wisdom's palace fair,
And breathe the pure immortal air,
Where squallid want nor sordid care
Ne'er dim the lamp of liberty.
And breathe the pure immortal air,
Where squallid want nor sordid care
Ne'er dim the lamp of liberty.
To that saturnian bless'd abode
Arise, trip o'er the roscid road,
Where few 'mong mortals ever trod,
Or felt truth's thrilling ecstasy.
Arise, trip o'er the roscid road,
Where few 'mong mortals ever trod,
Or felt truth's thrilling ecstasy.
No longer on hell's brink delay;
Time's race is short; haste! come away!
We'll show the path to endless day,
In th' realm of long eternity.
Time's race is short; haste! come away!
We'll show the path to endless day,
In th' realm of long eternity.
| Poems, on sacred and other subjects | |