Dead to the smiles of joy, and charms of art,
To blooming hope, and pleasure’s soft controul,
No more with sweet emotion can impart
A gleam of comfort to the chearless soul;
Still holds the allusion when thy honours bow
Beneath the early storm’s despoiling rage,
And sad affliction, life consuming woe,
Forestals the influence of declining age.
MATILDA.
Montreal.