The morning sun’s enchanting rays Now call forth every songster’s pr… Now the lark, with upward flight, Gaily ushers in the light; While wildly warbling from each tr…

Once more, O Trent! along thy peb… A pensive invalid, reduced and pal… From the close sick-room newly let… Wooes to his wan-worn cheek the pl… O! to his ear how musical the tale

Sad solitary Thought, who keep’st… Thy solemn vigils, in the sick man… Communing lonely with his sinking… And musing on the dubious glooms t… In dim obscurity before him,-thee,

Quick o’er the wintry waste dart f… Bleak blows the blast-now howls—th… And oft upon its awful wings it wa… The dying wanderer’s distant, feeb… Now, when athwart the gloom gaunt…

Loud rage the winds without.-The… O’er the cold northstar casts her… And Silence, pausing in some snow… Starts as she hears, by fits, the… Where now, shut out from every sti…

Saw’st thou that light? exclaim’d… Through yon dark firs it glanced,… That skirts the woods it for a mom… Again, more light it gleam’d,-or d… Delude mine eyes with shapes of wo…

Emblem of life! see changeful Apr… In varying vest along the shadowy… Now bidding summer’s softest zephy… Anon recalling winter’s stormy gal… And pouring from the cloud her sud…

Oh! who would cherish life, And cling unto this heavy clog of… Love this rude world of strife, Where glooms and tempests cloud th… And where, 'neath outward smiles,

Sweet scented flower! who art wont… On January’s front severe, And o’er the wintry desert drear To waft thy waste perfume! Come, thou shalt form my nosegay n…

Yes, my stray steps have wander’d,… From thee, and long, heart-soothin… And many a flower, which in the pa… My heart hath register’d, nipp’d b… Of undeserved neglect, hath shrunk…

Reader! if with no vulgar sympathy Thou view’st the wreck of genius a… Stay thou thy footsteps near this… Here Cowper rests. Although renow… His name familiar to thine ear, th…

Thou base repiner at another’s joy… Whose eye turns green at merit not… Oh, far away from generous Briton… And find on meaner climes a fitter… Away, away, it shall not be,

Yes, once more that dying strain, Anna, touch thy lute for me; Sweet, when pity’s tones complain, Doubly sweet is melody. While the Virtues thus enweave

Yes, it will be over soon.-This s… Of life will vanish from my feveri… And death my wearied spirit will r… From this wild region of unvaried… Yon brook will glide as softly as…

Down the sultry arc of day The burning wheels have urged thei… And eve along the western skies Sheds her intermingling dyes. Down the deep, the miry lane,