ORIGINAL POETRY.
H re let me oft to muse reli e B neath the shadow of the rock, For 'tis the freedom I desire, All freedom else is but a mock, H re let me dwell on pleasures past On sunny days for ever gone, Bright visions failing fading fast, Ye come to tell that I'm alone. I hear their voices on the gale, The friends I loved in early youth They come — I listen to their tale, It speaks of friendship, love and truth; I hear them sighing on the wind : But 'tis not for their fate they mourn, 'Tis that they feel for those behind, Though they desire not to return.
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Daily Southern Cross, Volume 1, Issue I, 22 April 1843, Page 4
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113ORIGINAL POETRY. Daily Southern Cross, Volume 1, Issue I, 22 April 1843, Page 4
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