Where Love has put off, in the land of its birth,
The stain it had gathered in this,
And Hope, the sweet singer that gladdened the earth,
Lies asleep on the bosom of bliss.
Hervey.
“THE LAST NIGHT OF THE SEASON.”
“Hasten, O sinner, to return,
And stay not for to-morrow’s sun,
For fear thy lamp should cease to burn