Song 3 Poem by Anne Hunter

Song 3



DEAR shade of bliss, enchanting hope,
Thy fairy dreams are almost o'er;
Bewilder'd, weary, faint, I stop,
My heart, alas! believes no more.
Yet from the beaten track I stray,
And truant fancy wanders far,
To catch one faint and trembling ray
From thy obscure and distant star.
Come, dear delusion, smile once more,
If in thy smiles I may be bless'd!
Spread thy green mantle on the shore.
And give thy anchor to my breast.

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