Noon descends, and after noon 'Mid remembered agonies, The frail bark of this lone being,) Other flowering isles must be O'er that gulph: even now, perhaps, 320 325 330 335 LIFT not the painted veil which those who live With colours idly spread, behind, lurk Fear - And Hope, twin destinies; who ever weave Their shadows, o'er the chasm, I knew one who had lifted it sightless and drear. For his lost heart was tender, things to love, But found them not, alas! nor was there aught SONG, ON A FADED VIOLET. I. THE odour from the flower is gone The colour from the flower is flown II. A shrivelled, lifeless, vacant form, It lies on my abandoned breast, And mocks the heart which yet is warm, I weep, III. my tears revive it not ! it breathes no more on me; Its mute and uncomplaining lot Is such as mine should be. STANZAS, WRITTEN IN DEJECTION NEAR NAPLES. I. THE sun is warm, the sky is clear, Like many a voice of one delight, II. I see the Deep's untrampled floor With green and purple seaweeds strown; I see the waves upon the shore, Like light dissolved in star-showers, thrown : I sit upon the sands alone, The lightning of the noon-tide ocean Is flashing round me, and a tone Arises from its measured motion, How sweet! did any heart now share in my emotion. III. Alas! I have nor hope nor health, Nor that content surpassing wealth The sage in meditation found, And walked with inward glory crowned – Nor fame, nor power, nor love, nor leisure. Others I see whom these surround. |