The Invitation.
This dead of midnight is the noon of thought,
And Wisdom mounts her zenith with the stars.
A Summer's Evening Meditation.
It is to hope, though hope were lost.[433:2]
Come here, Fond Youth.
Life! we 've been long together
Through pleasant and through cloudy weather;
'T is hard to part when friends are dear,—
Perhaps 't will cost a sigh, a tear;