XIII. THE PAINS OF MEMORY. I. WHEN Joy its fairest flowers hath shed, And even Hope's blossoms too are dead, Though Memory through the cloud of woe A momentary gleam may throw; II. 'Tis but an ignis fatuus light,— A fleeting vision, frail as bright,- To leave his soul in tenfold night! XIV. THE SOUL THAT WAS SHROUDED. I. THE Soul that was shrouded in sorrow's dark night II. Ah! why did that beam only shine to beguile,- III. The light is gone by-and the music is o'er, XV. WHAT NEED OF YEARS-LONG YEARS TO PROVE ? I. WHAT need of years, long years to prove The sense of Friendship or of Love? The social compact of the mind? II. In youthful hearts of kindred mould, But oft-though 'neath a sky a gloom- |