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Untenanting it's beauteous clay
My Sara's soul has wing'd it's way,
And hovers round my head!
I felt it prompt the tender Dream,
When slowly sunk the day's last gleam;
You rous'd each gentler sense
As sighing o'er the Blossom's bloom
Meek Evening wakes it's soft perfume
With viewless influence.
And hark, my Love! The sea-breeze moans
Thro' yon rest house! O'er rolling stones
In bold ambitious sweep
I
