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103



I feel as if my heart had wings,
And tender from excess of bliss,
His form, which airy fancy brings,
In fond emotion seem to kiss.

Welcome the wild, imperfect rest,
Which these bewilder'd spirits share!
Welcome this tumult of the breast,
After the shudder of despair!

My Robert he is brave and strong,
He will these flowing tears reprove.
Alas! how little know the young,
The tremor of a Mother's love.

For we are weak from many a care,
From many a sleepless, anxious hour,
When fear and hope the bosom tear,
And ride the brain with fevering power.