Select Poetry.
THE EOSE. fOW much of memory dwells amidst thy bloom, Eose! ever wearing beauty for thy dower I a bridal day—the festival—the tomb— Thou hast thy part in each,—thou stateliest flower 1 Therefore with thy soft breath come floating by A thousand images of love and grief, Dreams, Ailed with tokens of mortality, Deep thoughts of all things beautiful and brief. Not such thy spells o’er those that hailed thee first In the clear light of Eden’s golden day; There thy rich leaves to crimson glory burst. Linked with no dim rememberance of decay. Eose! for the banquet gathered, and the bier; Eose! colored now by human hope or pain; Surely where death is not—nor change nor fear, Vet may we meet thee, Joy’s own flower, again 1 Mrs Hjsuass.
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/HBT18660129.2.2
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Hawke's Bay Times, Volume 7, Issue 345, 29 January 1866, Page 1
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132Select Poetry. Hawke's Bay Times, Volume 7, Issue 345, 29 January 1866, Page 1
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