Identifier: poeticalworksoff001hall (find matches)
Title: The poetical works of Fitz-Greene Halleck : Now first collected ; illustrated with steel engravings, from drawings by American artists
Year: 1850 (1850s)
Authors: Halleck, Fitz-Greene, 1790-1867
Subjects: Halleck, Fitz-Greene, 1790-1867
Publisher: New York : D. Appleton
Contributing Library: Brandeis University Libraries
Digitizing Sponsor: Boston Library Consortium Member Libraries

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Text Appearing Before Image:
Green, he the turf above thee , Fj ii I if my be11 er days X lij 11 ■ knew tlieebu1 to lore the Nor named thee but to praise JOSEPH RODMAN DRAKE. 43 Tears fell, when thou wert dying,From eyes unused to weep, And long where thou art lying,Will tears the cold turf steep. When hearts, whose truth was proven,Like thine, are laid in earth, There should a wreath be wovenTo tell the world their worth; And I, who woke each morrowTo clasp thy hand in mine, Who shared thy joy and sorrow,Whose weal and wo were thine: It should be mine to braid it Around thy faded brow,But Ive in vain essayed it, And feel I cannot now. While memory bids me weep thee,Nor thoughts nor words are free, The grief is fixed too deeplyThat mourns a man like thee.
Text Appearing After Image:
> /, 0 /- r-f///. IT, LONDON & TWILIGHT. There is an evening twilight of the heart, When its wild passion-waves are lulled to rest,And the eye sees lifes fairy scenes depart, As fades the day-beam in the rosy west.Tis with a nameless feeling of regret We gaze upon them as they melt away,And fondly would we bid them linger yet, But Hope is round us with her angel lay,Hailing afar some happier moonlight hour;Dear are her whispers still, though lost their early power. 46 TWILIGHT. In youth the cheek was crimsoned with her glow; Her smile was loveliest then; her matin songWas heavens own music, and the note of wo Was all unheard her sunny bowers among.Lifes little world of bliss was newly born; We knew not, cared not, it was born to die,Flushed with the cool breeze and the dews of morn, With dancing heart we gazed on the pure sky,And mocked the passing clouds that dimmed its blue,Like our own sorrows then—as fleeting and as few. And manhood felt her sway too—on the eye, Half re

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