No, nor on thee be wasted,
Thou trifler, Poesy!
Heaven grant the manlier heart, that timely, ere
Youth fly, with life’s real tempest would be coping;
The fruit of dreamy hoping
Is, waking, blank despair.
1841
THE SILVER WEDDING.[2]
The Silver Wedding! on some pensive ear
From towers remote as sound the silvery bells,