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FOREBODINGS. |
30? |
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" But," he said, " those days of gladness Now are gone, forever gone."
As he spoke, he turn'd his blue eye Upward to his mother's face—
Then she saw a noble feeling Struggling there, above disgrace.
" Are you weeping, dearest mother ?
This I cannot, cannot bear! Though with shame and scorn I struggle,
Yet I cannot brook thy tear!
" Yesterday I met my playmates— 0, how tauntingly they smiled!
Pointed at my tatter'd garments, Calling me a drunkard's child!
" I can brave my mates' reviling;
Poverty and scorn* I '11 bear; All my father's cruel curses—
But I cannot brook thy tear!" |
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FOREBODINGS.
Autumn's wing is o'er me, ' Hazy, calm, and mild;
Winter is before me, With its tempests wild. |
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