Who so wildly spends his days,Oft amid light sports with joy
THOU dost complain of woman for changing from one to another?
When those glories gave her joy;When yet her heart revered the truth,When her glad soul, in endless youth
Censure her not: for she seeks one who will constant remain.
But he feels no relish now, in truth,
'Tis there, 'tis there,Our path lies--Father--thither, oh repair!
And, 'mid our sorrow and bliss, even the world seem'd to die.Louder and louder they calI'd from the strand; my feet would no longer
Call'st thy loved one now,
THE PRIVILEGED MEN.
Turn the savage train aside!Earth contains upon its face
Sooner or later, ev'ry earthly foe--That faith which, soaring to the realms of light,
Yet no shady vale can stay him,Nor can flowers,Round his knees all-softly twiningWith their loving eyes detain him;To the plain his course he taketh,Serpent-winding,
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