POETRY
... I ?? FAR EWE LL. Ho w often do we-breathe Farewell! As though it were a final knell To all the heart's most precious things, From whence all joy, all pleasure springs. Nor has its influence o'er the mind Been fitful, as the changing wind, That hurries on its trackless course In murmurs soft, then loud and hoarse, Succeeded by a calm serene As ever blest an infant's dream. This may depart, ...