Thomas Parnell

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When ore my temples balmy vapours rise
Whose soft suffusion dims the sinking eyes
Gay dreams in troops fantastically light
On silent plumes wave down through sable night
Nights sable curtains draw before my eye
gently clears a visionary Sky
the running darkness draws its dusky shade
from off the beautys of a flowry mead
More still more forsakes the lengthening plain
Mounts gray ends it in a sylvan scene.

Poizd & aloft I sail in glittring air
Joy to view my newborn earth so fair.