Laura Sophia Temple

Glances Back

    Now, while the voice of Folly sleeps,
While Fancy's wings are gaily plying,
    And o'er the plains and shadowy steeps
The gales of Night are wildly sighing ;

    While o'er the waters of the deep
The trembling eye of Night reposes,
    And dews of freshness love to steep
The bloomy leaves of infant roses ;

    Now will I muse o'er life's dull page,
And smile at ev'ry past delusion ;
    Now gaze upon my youth's first stage,
With wond'ring eyes and deep confusion.

    How worthless seem the gaudy dreams
That play'd around my fever'd slumbers !
    How dim the star of Hope, whose beams
Would flash athwart my joyous numbers !

    Yet no ! not dim--its lucid rays
Still triumph o'er the mists of sorrow ;
    They leave these transitory days
And rest upon a distant Morrow.

    I view their vivid glorious light
Thro' all the wide Horizon streaming,
    Now, on my fix'd and raptur'd sight
A gay futurity is gleaming.

    Behold yon waves that frantic roll,
Hark to the raving winds of ocean !
    'Twas thus that o'er my subject soul
The passions rag'd in dread commotion.

    But now the fearful storm is hush'd,
The gales of Spring once more are waking,
    Again my soul with joy is flush'd,
The gloomy shades of thought forsaking.

    Shine o'er my path, thou beamy light,
Sweet Hope ! the wilds of Life adorning ;
    O lead me from the mists of Night
To all the blaze and bloom of Morning.

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