Page:Selections from the American poets (IA selectamerpoet00bryarich).pdf/114
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Rufus Dawes.
The dandy of the summer flow'rs and woods,Dips his light wings and spoils his golden coatWith the rank water of that turbid pond.Wondering and vex'd, the pluméd citizenFlies, with an hurried effort, to the shore,Seeking his kindred flow'rs; but seeks in vain:Nothing of genial growth may there be seen,Nothing of beautiful! Wild, ragged trees,That look like felon spectres—fetid shrubs,That taint the gloomy atmosphere—dusk shades,That gather, half a cloud and half a fiendIn aspect, lurking on the swamp's wild edge—Gloom with their sternness and forbidding frownsThe general prospect. The sad butterfly,Waving his lacker'd wings, darts quickly on,And, by his free flight, counsels us to speedFor better lodgings, and a scene more sweetThan these drear borders offer us to-night.
TO AN INFANT SLEEPING IN A GARDEN.
Sleep on, sweet babe! the flowers that wake Around thee are not half so fair;Thy dimpling smiles unconscious break, Like sunlight on the vernal air.
Sleep on! no dreams of eare are thine, No anxious thoughts that may not rest;For angel arins around thee twine, To make thy infant slumbers bless'd.
Perchance her spirit hovers near, Whose name thy infant beauty bears,To guard thine eyelids from the tear That every child of sorrow shares.