WEARINESS. 33 
BRAMBLE. 
Language WEARINESS. 
O FOR thy wings, thou dove, 
Now sailing by with sunshine on thy breast ! 
That, borne like thee above, 
I too might flee away, and be at rest. 
O, to some cool recess. 
Take, take me with thee on the summer wind ; 
Leaving the weariness 
And all the fever of this world behind. 
The aching and the void 
Within the heart whereunto none reply, 
The early hopes destroyed, 
Bird, bear me with thee through the sunny sky. 
Mbs. Hsuans. 
Art thou a weary soul, and dost thon cry 
For rest ? Wait, and thou soon shalt have 
That thou dost crave. 
For death is real the GRAVE no mockery. 
= 
