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With viewless fingers weave thy wintry tent,
And line with gossamer thy pendant cell, Safe in the rift of some lone ruin pent
Where ivy shelters from the storm-wind fell.
Blest if like thee I cropt with heedless spoil
The gifts of youth and pleasure in their bloom, Doom'd for no coming winter's want to toil,
Fit for the spring that waits beyond the tomb.
INSCRIPTIONS, by ROBERT SOUTHEY.
For the Banks of the HAMPSHIRE AVON.
A little while, O Traveller! linger here,
Of yonder water lilly whose broad leaf
For a Monument at OXFORD, opposite Balliol gate-way.
Here Latimer and Ridley in the flames
For a Monument in the Vale of Ewias.
Here was it Stranger, that the patron Saint