« 이전계속 »
WRITTEN BENEATH A PICTURE.
DEAR object of defeated care!
Though now of Love and thee bereft,
To reconcile me with despair
'Tis said with Sorrow Time can cope;
But this I feel can ne'er be true: For by the death-blow of my Hope My Memory immortal grew.
THE kiss, dear maid! thy lip has left,
Till happier hours restore the gift
Untainted back to thine.
Thy parting glance, which fondly beams, An equal love may see:
The tear that from thine eyelid streams
Can weep no change in me.
I ask no pledge to make me blest
Nor one memorial for a breast,
Whose thoughts are all thine own.
Nor need I write-to tell the tale
By day or night, in weal or wo,
Must bear the love it cannot show,
And silent ache for thee.
WITHOUT a stone to mark the spot,
And say, what Truth might well have said, By all, save one, perchance forgot,
Ah, wherefore art thou lowly laid?
To bid us meet-no-ne'er again!
Shall they not flow, when many a day
Affection's mingling tears were ours?
That Love each warmer wish forbore; Those eyes proclaim'd so pure a mind, Even passion blush'd to plead for more. The tone, that taught me to rejoice, When prone, unlike thee, to repine; The song, celestial from thy voice,
But sweet to me from none but thine; The pledge we wore I wear it still, But where is thine?-ah, where art thou? Oft have I borne the weight of ill,
But never bent beneath till now!
Well hast thou left in life's best bloom
I would not wish thee here again;
To wean me from mine anguish here.
Teach me too early taught by thee!
AWAY, away, ye notes of wo!
Be silent thou once soothing strain,
I dare not trust those sounds again.
The voice that made those sounds more sweet
And all that once was harmony
Is worse than discord to my heart!