I feel refreshed--the load of faults and woe
Which, groaning, I drag with me as I go,
Thy winged prayer bears off rejoicingly!

Pray for thy father! that his dreams be bright
With visitings of angel forms of light,
And his soul burn as incense flaming wide,
Let thy pure breath all his dark sins efface,
So that his heart be like that holy place,
An altar pavement each eve purified!

C., _Tait's Magazine_




LES CHANTS DU CREPUSCULE.--1849.



PRELUDE TO "THE SONGS OF TWILIGHT."

_("De quel non te nommer?")_

[PRELUDE, a, Oct. 20, 1835.]


How shall I note thee, line of troubled years,
Which mark existence in our little span?
One constant twilight in the heaven appears--