As To Posterity, I May Ask What

Gay Hope Is Theirs By Fancy Fed, Less Pleasing When Possest; The Tear Forgot As Soon As Shed, The Sunshine Of The Breast.

In The Evening, I Walked Alone Down To The Lake By The Side Of Crow Park After Sunset And Saw The Solemn Coloring Of Night Draw On, The Last Gleam Of Sunshine Fading Away On The Hilltops, The Seep Serene Of The Asters, And The Long Shadows Of The Mountains Thrown Across Them, Till They Nearly Touched The Hithermost Shore. At Distance Hear The Murmur Of Many Waterfalls Not Audible In The Day-time. Wished For The Moon, But She Was Dark To Me And Silent, Hid In Her Vacant Interlunar Cave.

O'er Her Warm Cheek, And Rising Bosom, Move The Bloom Of Young Desire And Purple Light Of Love.

We Frolic While 'tis May.

And Weep The More, Because I Weep In Vain.