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That, should you close your eyes, you migHt almost Forget it was not day.

A' most gentle Maid'*
Who dwelleth in her hospitable home
Hard by the Castle, and at latest eve
(Even like a Lady vowed and dedicate
To something more than nature in the grove)
Glides through the pathways; she knows all their
notes,

That gentle Maid! and oft, a moment's space,
What time the moon was lost behind a cloud,
Hath heard a pause of silence: till the Moon
Emerging; hath awakened earth and sky
With one sensation, and those wakeful Birds
Have all burst forth with choral minstrelsy,
As if one quick and sudden Gale had swept
An hundred airy harps! And she hath watched
Many a Nightingale perch giddily
On blosmy twig still swinging from the breeze,

And to that motion tune his wanton song,
Like tipsy'Joy that reels with tossing head.

Farewell, O Warbler f till to-morrow eve,

And you, my friends I farewell, a short farewell T

We have been loitering long and pleasantly,

And now for our dear homes.—That strain again f

Full fain it would delay me! My dear Babe,

Who, capable of no articulate sound,

Mars all things with his imitative lisp,

How he would place his hand beside his ear,

His little hand, the small forefinger up,

And bid us listen! And I deem it wise

To make- him Nature's playmate. He knows well

The evening star: and once when he awoke

In most distressful mood (some inward pain

Had made up that strange thing, an infant's dream)

I hurried with him to our orchard plot,

And he beholds the moon, and hushed at" once

Suspends his sobs, and laughs most silently,
While his fair eyes that swam with undropt tears
Did glitter in the yellow moon-beam! Well-
It is a father's tale. But if that Heaven
Should give me life, his childhood shall grow up
Familiar with these songs, that with the night
He may associate Joy! Once more farewell,
Sweet Nightingale! once more, my friends! fare-
well.

THE

IDIOT BOY.

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