As in those gardens where the day
Springs from the gems of Circassy:
Oh! nothing earthly save the thrill
Of melody in woodland rill. . . . . . .
Oh! nothing of this dross of ours,
Yet all the beauty, all the flowers
That list our love, and deck our bowers,
Adorn yon world afar, afar
The wandering star.
Such was the poet's theme:
A sun new-born, as time rolled to and fro--
A distant stellar gleam,
A glow,
A blinding light,
Mysterious, swift, illuminating - our night--
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NEW RESTRICTIONS PLACED ON WIDENER LIBRARY BOOKS