Part 3 — STANZAS. WRITTEN AT THE AGE OF SEVENTEEN.

I. Come, breath of dawn! and o'er my temples play; Rouse to the draught of life the wearied sense; Fly, sleep! with thy sad phantoms, far away; Let the glad light scare those pale troublous shadows hence! II. I rise, and leaning from my casement high, Feel from the morning twilight a delight; Once more youth's portion, hope, lights up my eye, And for a moment I forget the sorrows of the night. III. O glorious morn! how great is yet thy power! Yet how unlike to that which once I knew, When, plumed with glittering thoughts, my soul would soar, And pleasures visited my heart like daily dew! IV. Gone is life's primal freshness all too soon; For me the dream is vanished ere my time; I feel the heat and weariness of noon, And long in night's cool shadows to recline.