The appeal of Poland An ode. Written on the commencement of the late campaign. By W. S. Walker |
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REFLECTION, IN THE MANNER OF MOORE. |
 | The appeal of Poland |  |
15
REFLECTION, IN THE MANNER OF MOORE.
'Tis true, the soft thrill our affections impart
Is well worth the hour it beguiles,
And I would not relinquish the tear of the heart
For the calmest of apathy's smiles:
But feeling, unchasten'd, to riot may run,
And sweep the soul's glories away,
And the flower that expanded too wide to the sun,
Must die in the withering ray.
Is well worth the hour it beguiles,
And I would not relinquish the tear of the heart
For the calmest of apathy's smiles:
But feeling, unchasten'd, to riot may run,
And sweep the soul's glories away,
And the flower that expanded too wide to the sun,
Must die in the withering ray.
There are times, when the tumult of passion is staid
And still as a cool summer night,
And all that once tempted, and all that dismay'd,
Dissolves like a vapour in light:
Oh, then, to reflect, had we met but the storm
With valour's unchangeable brow,
Had the flame of resolve been but lasting as warm,
How our hearts had rejoiced in it now!
And still as a cool summer night,
And all that once tempted, and all that dismay'd,
Dissolves like a vapour in light:
Oh, then, to reflect, had we met but the storm
With valour's unchangeable brow,
Had the flame of resolve been but lasting as warm,
How our hearts had rejoiced in it now!
| The appeal of Poland | |