For ever!’ I shouted, while whirling along:
‘I have come, I have come from a shadowy clime,
A breath of the monarch Earth’s children call Time!’
Cincinnati, December, 1843.
ON COLOUR.
Full angel-like the birdis sang their hours[1]
Within their curtains green, within their bowers
Apparelled with white and red, with bloomys sweet.
Enamell’d was the field with all coloùrs: