The Huron Chief, and Other Poems

by Adam Kidd


 

TO SOPHIA.


 

There is a melancholy shadow cast
    O’er all my joys, when I return here,
To muse on pleasures, which have quickly passed,
    When thou, sweet girl, wert dearest of the dear. [Page 149]

And still the mind is fated to pursue
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    The mocking phantoms of delusive bliss,
Which rise again, to cheat the wond’ring view,
    And make me feel the pangs of even this.

And, while among these infant pines I stray,
    Which shade the path where oft we’ve strayed before—
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Each thought reverting, marks that well-known day,
    I breathed my song of rapture o’er and o’er.

But now, the murmuring breeze that sighs along,
    In gloomy sadness, through the waving grove,
Comes o’er the heart, like sorrow’s dismal song,
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    With every feeling that the soul can move.

And in each breath that fans the maple leaves,
    Now burnished by the sun’s declining rays,
I think I hear, in whispers, through the trees,
    Such notes as soothed my heart in happier days. [Page 150]
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