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poems.
163
Dost thou behold? No stormy winds blow loud.
  The murm'ring torrent falls;
  The roaring wave now calls;
The flies of evening murmer from afar.
  Their home is on the field;
  What seest thou, fair shield?
But thou dost smile and leave us, gentle star!
  The waves of ocean gleam
  With joy around thy beam;
They bathe in beauty thy departing light.
  Farewell, thou star of eve!
  We may thine absence grieve.
Let mem'ry now arise serene and bright!

THE END.