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WRITTEN IN A SICK CHAMBER.
THERE, in that bed so closely curtained round,
He stirs yet still he sleeps. May heavenly dreams
WELL may you sit within, and, fond of grief,
On the death of a younger sister.
Changed is that lovely countenance, which shed Light when she spoke; and kindled sweet surprise, As o'er her frame each warm emotion spread, Played round her lips, and sparkled in her eyes.
Those lips so pure, that moved but to persuade,
Those eyes at once her secret soul conveyed,
Yet has she fled the life of bliss below,
That youthful Hope in bright perspective drew! False were the tints! false as the feverish glow That o'er her burning cheek Distemper threw!
And now in joy she dwells, in glory moves!
ON thee, blest youth, a father's hand confers
As on she moves with hesitating grace,
Spare the fine tremors of her feeling frame!
At each response the sacred rite requires,
O'er her fair face what wild emotions play!
And settled sunshine on her soul descend!
Ah soon, thine own confest, ecstatic thought!
Gild the calm current of domestic hours!