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Still, whilst I darkly sojourn here,
Thy name, through many a future year,
Of bliss-gone by for ever!
Though thou hast wrapped me in a cloud, Nought now may e'er dispel,
In silentness my wrongs I'll shroud,
And love, reproach, pain, passion, crowd Into one word-FAREWELL!
'Tis done-the task of soul is taught; At length I've burst the spell,
Which, round my heart so firmly wrought, Fettered each loftier, nobler thought;
SUPPOSED TO HAVE BEEN WRITTEN ON THE ENVE
LOPE TO A LOCK OF HAIR.
PLEDGE of a love as pure and deep
Recall thee from the couch of rest,
No! Bright as was thy brief career,
In this wild waste of storm and gloom,
And much as I have wished thee here,
My soul's dark sorrows to illume,—
Besides, would even Heaven allow
Thy advent to this earth again; That boon to thee were cruel now,
Since human ills- -a numerous train— Would cross thee in thy path of life, And stir thy young sweet thoughts to strife!
Yet looking on this sun-bright tress
BLOSSOM OF LOVE! Yes, on my mind
And bid its waters wildly gush,-
BLOSSOM OF LOVE! Farewell!-Farewell!
I go to join the noisy throng;
But, in my soul's deep-inmost cell,
Thoughts that to thine and thee belong, Will ever bloom as fresh and fair
As when they first were planted there!
And, oh, if tears of woe may nourish
The flowers of Memory in the breast; Then those in mine will surely flourish,
And each succeeding hour invest Their stems with charms unknown before,—
Till we three meet to part no more!
Now Winter from her throne is hurling
The deep-voiced matron of the year; And fitful gusts are wildly whirling
Her yellow hues on high; though here,
many a fold of beauty streaming,
It lingers still whilst from her eye The watery light of love is beaming As bright-but, oh, as transiently; Filling the bosom with a sadness, Though born of grief-allied to gladness.