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SONNET.

AS one who by the current's flow is borne

(No need of oar) adown a gentle stream,

Though rapid, gentle, as in a dream,

Lying at length, sees fields of waving corn

And many an orchard, many an emerald lawn

Swept by, and fain would tarry for a while

In such sweets pots, -spots sweet through Nature's smile,

But down the unrelenting stream is borne,

So I, unwilling, though a length of days

That smile, but not for me, have ever sped

Past joys of other men, through hidden ways

Adown my life's mysterious current led:

Yet happy in the thought that soon a day

Shall dawn on joys that may not float away.

E.C.P.

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