No, nor till cordially you shook

my

hand Mid-way between our homes :-your accents bland Still sounded in my ears, when I no more Could hear your footsteps touch the gravelly floor. Sometimes I lost them, and then found again; You changed the foot-path for the grassy plain. In those still moments I have wish'd you joys That well you know to honour:-Life's very toys With him,» said I, « will take a pleasant charm; It cannot be that aught will work him harm., These thoughts now come o'er me with all their might:Again I shake your hand,-friend Charles, good night.

September, 1816.

The north cannot undo them,
With a sleety whistle through them;
Nor frozen thawings glue them
From budding at the prime.
In a drear-nighted December,
Too happy, happy brook,
Thy bubblings ne'er remember
Apollo's summer look ;
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,
When there is none to heal it,
Nor numbed sense to steal it,
Was never said in rhyme.

STANZAS.

In a drear-nighted December,
Too happy, happy tree,
Thy branches ne'er remember
Their green felicity :

og afgyo