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ORIGINAL POETRY.

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ORIGINAL POETRY. LIFE AND ITS PARTINGS. By Joseph DUW/lei. I know that we must part, fair Earth And know that many part From thee, in peace, and some in mirth, All lovely as thou art; I know, without philosophy- That, lost itself, the loss of thee Can never touch my heart; Then wherefore sullen heart rebel ? Why, since Hope's self hath fled thy hollow cell, Repine to cry to Life, as Hope to thee Farewell ?" Farewell—farewell!" now up! lone heart, And see, beneath God's throne, How all things do from all things part, Save Heav'ns eternal own; Wherever is a meeting sweet, There parting follows those who meet, And every kiss a groan; Joy stays not with the heart it heaves, Fierce Grief outwears itself, or him who grieves; Nor to the heart it wounds the deadly arrow cleaves. To Thought's rapt ear, like rush of wings, A voiceless vast farewell Sounds through all sublunary things, The present's hollow knell The parting voice of good or ill, Breathing long separation still; Yon minster's antique bell Tolls not for parting souls alone, But daily, hourly, marks the parting groan Of some death stricken hope, long ere that soul be flown. Soon as Life's pilgrim leaves his cell, Distressful wailings mark His inarticulate farewell, At parting from his ark Ere long, a grief as groundless quite, Will tell his parting from the light, For Earth's maternal dark And all Life's little interval, Partings on partings crowd—'tis parting all: Life's whole tale but Farewell!" from birth to burial. Life's smoothest stream is but as this, Which seems one placid glass, So stealthily its waters kiss Its primrosed banks of grass; Kiss flying ne'er to kiss again, Bound for more rugged shores-the main Seas, iron bound !-so pass Time's little waves, the niititites-each Hurrying by childhood's flowery shore, to reach, Soon Manhood-soon Old Age, Eternity's bare beach. Where dew-drops gem the greenest field, By June's ascending sun, (Like diamonds yet uncongealed, Bright trembling every That very sun which beautifies, Exhales that beauty, and it dies, Almost ere the day's begun, So vanishes some artless grace, Of innocence with childhood's soon run race, And beauties fade from minds, as roses from the face. Farewell the kiss of infant lips! lhil now the happy boy Sweet playmate, fare-tllcc-well th'cclipse Of fear comes o'er that joy, Fear for his fate—his future bread The bliss to stroke that cherished head, Prophetic fears destroy We see it happy, housed, no more! The world's stern school demands his play hours o'er; Sad sounds his parting step fiom the paternal door For the cold stranger's eye and roof, He bids to our's farewell, As if estrangement kept aloof, Long years apart to dwell. Death is but distance, darkness, stone, Betwixt the heart and the heart's own, And absence is all these save one, That grave-stone terrible Ev'n th(it-(eold comfort !) tells-" he rests But oh what never-resting doubt molests The lingering living death of separated breasts Cold, cold the comfort, weak the aid" Which Letters" can impart, To fill the void, by absence made, 'Twixt love-tied heart and heart In pain th'imperfect pleasure dies; Time's horror-haunted gulf still lies 'Twixt writer's hand and reader's eyes, To mock the "Heav'n-taught" art; Despair on Hope steals, whispering dread Thou fool! 'tis the hand-writing of the dead," And th'old pain re-usurps the sick heart soon as read. What bosom-meteor next hath birth, In the soul's dark ? Not one Then, '• Flowers—Spring flowers dear mother Earth! A farewell smile, oh Sun! Peace-peace at least, thou still adored Nature, will not thy love afford, To Hope's poor maniac restored, Whose life of life is done ? Fields-loneliest fields come, Summer, bloom, With all thy flowers, around the heart, Hope's tomb, And with thy bluest light these few last days illume"! Oh wo,? ev'n to the so?tl serene, A winter hath extended! As leaves that made a forest green, With last year's dead when blended, Deepen the sunless dank morass Beneath, with ranker, sickliest grass, So hopes decayed not wholly pass Away, their sweetness ended, But evermore more sadness spread, And load the cold heart with their festering dead, Till Death itself presents no wilderness more dread. As when one thoughtful, walks alone Some ocean's moonlight shore, To him, in th' intermitted groan Of its eternal roar, Sobs of the long since broken hearted Sound-of the hearts those waves have parted, Parted to meet no more; So to Life's pilgrims, when they reach Death's solemn ocean shore, Life's partings (each By Memory's moon reviewed) sad resignation preach. "Heaven first taught letters for some retch's aid."—PorE.

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