i know not whether Love can fling
{"newspaper_name": "The Wilmingtonian, and Delaware register.", "edition": "01", "page": "p1", "byline": ""}
Il know not whether Love can fling
IA deeper witcheiy from his wing
Than falls, sweet Power Of Song, from thine.
But, all the wreath that binds thy shrine,
Though seemingly all bloom and light,
Hides thorn and canker, warm and blight,
Planet Of wayward destinies,


Thy victims are thy votaries!
Alas for him whose youthful fire


Is vowed and wasted on the lyre;-


Alas. for him who shall essay
The laurcls long and dreary way!
Mocking will greet, neglect will chill.
His spirits gush, his bosom's thrill;


And, worst Of all, that heartless praise


Echoed from what another says.


lie dreams dream of life and light,


.ind grasps The rainbo,c that appears
afar aN beautiful and bright,
.and finds il only form'd Of tears.
Ay, let him reach the goals let fame
Pour glory's sunlight on his name;
Let his songsbc on every tongue,
And wealth and honours round him Hung:
Then let him show his secret thoughti-
will it not own them dearly bought'
See him in WEAKNESS fling down


The golden harp, the violet crown,


And sigh for all the toll, the care;


The wro,.g that he has had to bear:


Then wish the treasures of his lutte


Had been, like his own feelings, mute.