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THE WORLD'S WANDERERS.
Tell me, thou star, whose wings of light
Will thy pinions close now?
ART thou pale for weariness
Ye hasten to the grave ! What seek ye there,
Thou vainly curious mind which wouldest guess
As the wild air stirs and
Rocks the year :- be calm and mild,
Trembling hours, --she will arise
January gray is here,
Like a sexton by her grave;
March with grief doth howl and rave,
Follow with May's fairest flowers.
UNFATHOMABLE Sea! whose waves are years,
Ocean of Time, whose waters of deep woe Are brackish with the salt of human tears !
Thou shoreless flood, which in thy ebb and flow Claspest the limits of mortality !
And sick of prey, yet howling on for more,
Who shall put forth on thee,
SWIFTLY walk o'er the western wave,
Spirit of Night!
Thou wovest dreams of joy and fear,
Swift be thy flight !
Wrap thy form in a mantle gray,
Come, long sought!
When I arose and saw the dawn,
I sighed for thee;
I sighed for thee.