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14
POEMS.
Slowly his footsteps stray
By glade and hill,
Where the young sleeper lay
Slumbering still;
Smiles on its eyelids rest,
As if its guileless breast
Gay visions fill.

Soft stole the stranger on,
Downward he bent;
Long that smooth brow upon
Gazed he intent;
"Oh! that such rest were mine!
And to my sleep like thine
Sweet dreams were sent."

Tears o'er his earnest gaze
Silently start;
Thoughts of forgotten days
Steal round his heart;
When with his day-dreams fair,
Like the child sleeping there,
Grief had no part.

All that the world calls great,
His might be styled;
Glory and high estate
On him had smil'd;