OR THE POET’S DREAM.
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BY MRS. R. S. NICHOLS.
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I bent me o’er him as he lay upon his couch,
Deep sleep weighed down the curtains of his eyes,
Forever and anon the seraph seemed to touch
His dreaming soul with radiance of the skies!
I bent me o’er him then, for mighty thoughts did seem
To pant for utterance, as he sighed for breath,