Trod stately angels, without speech.

What wonders did I not behold!
Dark gorgeous women, turbaned men,
White tents, like ships, in plain and glen,
Slaves, palm trees, camels, pearls, and gold.

Ah! many an hour I sat and read,
And God seemed with me all day long;
Joy murmured a sweet undersong,
I talkt with angels, with them fed.

It was an old deserted room;
There was a skylight strait above,
And the blue sky lookt thro' like love,
Softening and coloring mortal gloom.

No playmate had I, knew no game,
Yet sometimes left my book to run
And blow bright bubbles in the sun--
In after life we do the same.

That time is gone; you think me weak
That I regret that perisht time,
That I recall my golden prime
With beating heart and blushing cheek.

That Book so prized, you tell me, friend,
Is full of false and deadly tales:
You say, "a palsied world bewails