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Where'er thy morning breath has play'd,
Whatever isles of ocean fann'd, Come to my blossom-woven shade,
Thou wandering wind of fairy land.
For sure from some enchanted isle
Where heav'n and love their sabbath hold, Where pure and happy spirits smile
Of beauty's fairest brightest mould;
From some green Eden of the deep,
Where Pleasure's sigh alone is heav'd, Where tears of rapture lovers weep,
Endear'd, undoubting, undeceiv'd; From some sweet paradise afar,
Thy music wanders, distant, lost.... Where Nature lights her leading star,
And Love is never, never cross'd.
Oh Gentle gale of Eden bow'rs,
If back thy rosy feet should roam, To revel with the cloudless hours
In Nature's more propitious home,
Name to thy lov'd elysian groves,
That o'er enchanted spirits twine, A fairer form than cherub loves,
And let the name be CAROLINE.
THE BEECH TREE'S PETITION.
O LEAVE this barren spot to me?
Yet leave this barren spot to me;
Spare, woodman, spare the beechen tree !
Thrice twenty summers I have seen,
Since youthful lovers in my shade
TO THE EVENING STAR.
Gem of the crimson-colour'd Even,
Companion of retiring day,
Beloved star dost thou delay?
So fair thy pensile beauty burns,
When soft the tear of twilight flows, So due thy plighted step returns,
To chambers brighter than the rose;
To Peace, to Pleasure, and to Love,
So kind a star thou seemst to be, Sure some enamour'd orb above, Descends and burns to meet with thee.