ORIGINAL CHARADE.
{"newspaper_name": "The Columbian fountain.", "edition": "01", "page": "p2", "byline": ""}
{"character_count": 1215, "word_count": 233, "ccnet_language_score": [0.8766000270843506], "ccnet_perplexity": [1191.4000244140625], "fasttext_language": ["en"]}
MY first lifts the clouds from storm beaten


tomb,


To rove in the heavens their dwelling on


high,
And rouses the winds from slumbering doom
To trace their wild path through the fields
Of the sky. i
He calls forth the lark from the mountain and


glade,


To wing o'er the spaces all joyous and free,
And long ere his glances may wither and fade,
He lights up the face Of the isles Of the sea.
My next, when the day-spring Of summer has


fed,


Rises up like sylph TO the way-worn afar,
And she floats as star o'er the homes Of the


dead,


A fairy enshrned in her gossamer car.
She heeds not the murmurs that softly may


sleep,


Far, far meath the swell of the tremulous
wave,
But spreads her feast o'er the lrown Of the
aH aeep, E#.#.
And fits as dream o'er the mariners
grave.
When twilight steals up from fountain oil


rest,
To shadow the ray that ilumines the soul,
The soft scented breeze of the halls OF the west
Grow dim at the blush DER the glance oil
my whole.
IT'S then that the dew-drops are ginning 70


fall,


On field, and on bower, on grass, and on


dell
He gives last look as he gazes on all,
Then breathes a sweet kiss, and he whs-
.H pers farewell. p. M. ID.
u. s. Hotel, Penn. Avenue.