Chapter IX
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Oh that thou wert but with me!--but I grow
The fool of my own wishes, and forget
The solitude which I have vaunted so
Has lost its praise in this but one regret;
There may be others which I less may show;--
I am not of the plaintive mood, and yet
I feel an ebb in my philosophy
And the tide rising in my alter'd eye.
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The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 17, No. 474, Supplementary NumberChapter IX
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