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Gent, Thomas, 1780-

"Poems (1828)"


Poor outcast! o'er thy sickly-tinted cheek
And half-clad form, what havoc want hath made;
And the sweet lustre of thine eye doth fade,
And all thy soul's sad sorrow seems to speak.
O! miserable state! compell'd to wear
The wooing smile, as on thy aching breast
Some wretch reclines, who feeling ne'er possess'd;
Thy poor heart bursting with the stifled tear!
Oh! GOD OF MERCY! bid her woes subside,
And be to her a friend, who hath no friend beside.

CONSTANCY.
TO----.

Dearest love! when thy God shall recall thee,
Be this record inscribed on thy tomb:
Truth, and gratitude, well may applaud thee,
And all thy past virtues relume.
It shall tell--to thy sex's proud honour,
Of sufferings and trials severe,
While still, through protracted affliction,
Not a murmur escaped; but the tear
Of resignment to Heaven's high dictates,
'Twas thine, like a martyr, to shed:
That heart--all affection for others--
For thyself, uncomplainingly, bled.
Midst the storms, which misfortune had gather'd,
What an angel thou wert unto me;
In that hour, when all friendship seem'd sever'd,
Thou didst bloom like the ever-green tree!
All was gloom; and in vain had I striven,
For hope ceased a ray to impart;
When thou cam'st, like a meteor from heaven,
And gave peace to my desolate heart!

EPISTLE TO A FRIEND.


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