Sweetheart, good-bye! one last embrace;
O, cruel fate, two souls to sever!
Yet in this heart's most sacred place
Thou, thou alone shalt dwell forever;
And still shall recollection trace
In fancy's mirror, ever near,
Each smile, each tear--that form, that face--
Though lost to sight, to memory dear.
_Ruthven Jenkyns._
* * * * *
THE AGUE.
Once upon an evening bleary,
While I sat me dreaming, dreary,
In the parlour thinking o'er
Things that passed in days of yore,
While I nodded, nearly sleeping,
Gently came something creeping,
Creeping upward from the floor.
"'Tis a cooling breeze," I muttered,
"From the regions 'neath the floor:
Only this and nothing more."
Ah! distinctly I remember--
It was in that wet September,
When the earth and every member
Of creation that it bore,
Had for weeks and months been soaking
In the meanest, most provoking,
Foggy rain, that without joking,
We had ever seen before.
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