No sooner had I stepp'd into these pleasures, And revell'd in a chat that ceased not, When, at night-fall, among your books we got: Nor when reluctantly I took my hat; Mid-way between our homes:-your accents bland Could hear your footsteps touch the gravelly floor. With him," said I, "will take a pleasant charm; It cannot be that aught will work him harm.' STANZAS. In a drear-nighted December, The north cannot undo them, With a sleety whistle through them; In a drear-nighted December, But with a sweet forgetting, They stay their crystal fretting, Never, never petting About the frozen time. Ah! would 't were so with many A gentle girl and boy! But were there ever any Writhed not at passed joy? To know the change and feel it, END OF PART II. |