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And I will hold a fairy court,
And call each slumbering fay;
And wild and gaily will we sport,
As the twilight fades away!
I'll be a fairy, &c.




LIFE.
The mystery of life—oh how it weighs
Upon the spirit's wings, when first youth dawns,
And aspirations beautiful and high
Fill the young heart with joy. The world's cold faith,
Like a dark cloud, comes interposed between
The heaven within, and God; and day by day,
Fades in the breast some fresh and glorious hope,
Nipt by its sceptic blight; that unbelief
Which senses crusted round with earthly things
Draw with then-very breath—the poisonous faith
Of the world's customs and inglorious views,
Which, day by day, as deeper it imbibes
Wanders the soul from its diviner walk—