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Mine eyes like wintry streams o’erflow:
9. My curdling blood, my maddning brain,' In silent anguish I sustain; And still thy bicart, without partaking One pang, exults — while mine is breaking.
Pour me the poison; fear not thou!
My wounded soul, my bleeding breast,
Thou art not falsc, but thon art fickle,
To those thyself so fondly sought;
Are doubly bitter from that thought: 'Tis this which breaks the heart thon grierest, Too well thon lov'st - too soon thou leavest.
2. The wholiy false the heart despises,
And spurns deceiver and deceit; But she who not a thought disguises,
Whose love is as sincere as sweet, When she can change who loved so truly, It feels what mine has felt so newly.
To dream of joy and wake to sorrow
Is doomed to all who love or live;
Wc scarce our fancy can forgive,
4. . What must they feel whom no false vision, ..
But truest, tenderest passion warmed ? Sincere, but swift in sad transition,
As if a dream alone had charmed? In: Al! sure such grief is fancy's scheming,4,5, And all thy change can be but dreaming!
On being asked what was the “Origin of Love?"
THE "Origin of Love!" - Ah why
That crucl question ask of me, so
He starts to life on seeing thee? :
My heart forebodes, my fears foresee',
But live -- until I cease to be.
Remember him, etc.
REMEMBER him, whom passion's power
Severely, deeply, vainly proved: Remember thou that dangerous hour
When neither fell, though both were loved. :
That yielding breast; that melting eye,
Too much invited to be blest:
The wilder wish reproved, represta
Oh! let me feel that all I lost, . '
But saved thee all that conscience fears; And blush for every pang it cost
To spare the vain remorse of years. ..