Anonymous British

Reflections -- Written In A Book Of Miscellaneous Articles

How like the map that marks my varied way Through life, these pages seem! A specked piece -- a mix'd display Of sadness, dulness, passion, pain, and play One heap of sound -- one variegated dream. How many a passion difficult; and there Loud flourishes that leave, On all who hear their notes, the mere Remembrance of their noise; and now appear Movements and times to teach me how to grieve. Here love's enchanting strains, whose stops and bars, And melting cadences, Bring long lost echoes to my ears Of sounds, which oft have hung upon my tears And weigh'd them down -- pure drops of ecstacies. Like these mix'd pages I can read my life, In fancy hear its echoes play-- Its hurried chords -- its passion's strife-- Those sweet deceptive flights with which 'twas rife, Transient as sound, but mark'd on memory.