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Shall they not flow, when many a day
In these, to me, deserted towers, Ere called but for a time away,
Affection's mingling tears were ours? Ours too the glance none saw beside ;
The smile none else might understand; The whispered thought of hearts allied,
The pressure of the thrilling hand; The kiss so guiltless and refined
That Love each warmer wish forbore; Those eyes proclaimed so pure a mind,
Ev'n passion blushed 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
The cup of woe for me to drain. If rest alone be in the tomb,
I would not wish thee here again; But if in worlds more blest than this
Thy virtues seek a fitter sphere, Impart some portion of thy bliss,
To wean me from mine anguish here. Teach me—too early taught by thee!
To bear, forgiving and forgiv'n: On earth thy love was such to me;
It fain would form my hope in heav'n!
Away, away, ye notes of woe!
Be silent thou once soothing strain, Or I must flee from hence, for, oh!
I dare not trust those sounds again. To me they speak of brighter days—
But lull the chords, for now, alas! I must not think, I may not gaze
On what I am, on what I was.
The voice that made those sounds more sweet
Is hushed, and all their charms are fled; And now their softest notes repeat
A dirge, an anthem o'er the dead' Yes, Thyrza! yes, they breathe of thee,
Beloved dust! since dust thou art; And all that once was harmony
Is worse than discord to my heart !
'Tis silent all!-- but on my ear .
The well-remembered echoes thrill; I hear a voice. I would not hear,
A voice that now might well be still, Yet oft my doubting soul 'twill shake :
Ev’n slumber owns its gentle tone, Till consciousness will vainly wake
To listen, though the dream be flown..
Sweet Thyrza! waking as in sleep,
Thou art but now a lovely dream; A star that trembled o’er the deep,
Then turned from earth its tender boom.