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POEMS WRITTEN IN YOUTH.

Private reasons-some of which have reference to the sin of plagiarism, and others to the date of Tennyson's first poems---have induced me, after some hesitation, to republish these, the crude compositions of my earliest boyhood. They are printed verbatim— without alteration from the original edition-the date of which is too remote to be judiciously acknowledged.

E. A. P.

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O! nothing earthly save the thrill
Of melody in woodland rill-
Or (music of the passion-hearted)
Joy's voice so peacefully departed
That, like the murmur in the shell,
Its echo dwelleth and will dwell-
Oh, nothing of the dross of ours-

Yet all the beauty-all the flowers

That list our Love, and deck our bowers—

Adorn yon worla afar, afar

The wandering star.

'Twas a sweet time for Nesace-for there

Her world lay lolling on the golden air,
Near four bright suns-a temporary rest–
An oasis in desert of the blest.

Away-away-'mid seas of rays that roll
Empyrean splendour o'er th' unchained soul—
The soul that scares (the billows are so dense)
Can struggle to its destined eminence-

To distant spheres, from time to time, she rode, And late to ours, the favoured one of God— the ruler of an anchored realm,

But, now,

She throws aside the sceptre-leaves the helm,

And, amid incense and high spiritual hymns,
Laves in quadruple light her angel limbs.

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