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WRITTEN NEAR RICHMOND, UPON THE THAMES;
AT EVENING.
How rich the wave, in front, imprest
With evening-twilight's summer hues,
While, facing thus the crimson west,
The boat her silent path pursues!
And see how dark the backward stream!
A little moment past, so smiling!
And still, perhaps, with faithless gleano,
Some other loiterer beguiling.
