EXPERIENCE, like a pale musi, holds

        A dulcimer of patien his hand,

        uand,

        Of God; will in rain unfolds

        In sad-perplexed minors: deathly colds

        Fall on us wermand

        Our sanguine    back from the fand

        itingales in visionary wolds.

        e murmur    ain tune

        Or measured musi suces as these ?

        But angels, leaning from t,

        Are not so mih won

        ted ces,

        And, smiling doars, they whisper--

        SEEt.
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