T M I H（1 / 1）

to ary heaven

thou lg&039;rg star, with lesseng ray,

that lov&039;st to greet the early orn,

aga thou her&039;st the day

y ary fro y ul was torn

o ary! dear departed shade!

where is thy pce of blissful rest?

see&039;st thou thy lover lowly id?

hear&039;st thou the groans that rend his breast?

that sacred hour can i fet,

can i fet the hallow&039;d grove,

where, by the dg ayr, we t,

to live one day of partg love!

eternity will not efface

those rerds dear of transports past,

thy ia at our st ebrace,

ah! little thought we &039;as our st!

ayr, gurglg, kiss&039;d his pebbled shore,

o&039;erhung with wild-woods, thickeng green;

the fragrant birch and hawthorn hoar,

&039;&039;d aoro round the raptur&039;d scene:

the flowers sprang wanton to be prest,

the birds sang love on every spray;

till too, too on, the glog west,

proci&039;d the speed of d day

still o&039;er these scenes y &039;ry wakes,

and fondly broods with iser-care;

ti but th&039; ipression stronr akes,

as streas their channels deeper wear,

y ary! dear departed shade!

where is thy blissful pce of rest?

see&039;st thou thy lover lowly id?

hear&039;st thou the groans that rend his breast?