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To tell how fair it was in happier hours :
THE FAITH OF LOVE.
Thou hast watch'd beside the bed of death,
O fearless human love!
Ere the spirit fled above.
Thy prayer was heard by the parting bier,
In a low and farewell tone,
- Lovel thy task is done.
Then turn thee from each pleasant spot,
Where thou wert wont to rove ;
Nor the joy of thy youth, O Love!
Thou wilt meet but mournful Memory there,
Her dreams in the grove she weaves,
With sighs the trembling leaves.
Then turn thee to the world again,
From these dim haunted bowers, And shut thine ear to the wild sweet strain
That tells of vanish'd hours..
And wear not on thine aching heart
The image of the dead,
In the gladness its beauty shed :
And gaze on the pictured smile no more
That thus can life outlast,
-Love! Love I forget the past !
“ Voice of vain boding! away, be still !
Strive not against the faith
Unquench'd and undimm'd by death:
“ From the pictured smile I will not turn,
Though sadly now it shine; Nor quit the shades that in whispers mourn
For the step once link'd with mine :
« Nor shut mine ear to the song of old,
Though its notes the pang renew, -Such memories deep in my heart I hold;
To keep it pure and true.
“By the holy instinct of my heart,
By the hope that bears me on,
In the deep affection gone.
“ By the presence that about me seems
Through night and day to dwell,
Betrothed to one long worship’d and enshrined
like a star to gaze, And dream that worlds lay couch'd beneath its rays ; And as you gazed, your softening spirit drew, As from some holy fount, a virtue from its hue. Sad scenes had temper’d with a pensive grace The maiden lustre of that faultless face, Had hung a sweet and dreamlike spell upon The gliding music of her silver tone; And shaded the soft soul which loved to lie In the deep pathos of that volumed eye. Lone — thoughtful -- tender— ever from her birth, Her heart had been too gentle for light mirth. Such are the thrones where Love too surely reigns, And turns his slightest chaplets into chains : To them the world of others is as nought; They shrink from earth, and banquet on sweet
thought, And passion grows their life; alas ! for those Whom rapture leaves too restless for repose, — Who bind on reeds their hopes—their joys—their all, And idly chide the wild winds when they fall !
Oh! cast thou pot
A WOMAN'S HEART. That hallow'd sphere, a woman's heart, contains Empires of feeling, and the rich domains Where Love, disporting in his sunniest hours, Breathes his sweet incense o'er ambrosial flowers ; A woman's heart ! that gem, divinely set In native gold -- that peerless amulet, Which firmly link'd to Love's electric chain, Connects the worlds of transport and of pain !
GIVE ME BUT THY LOVE.
Give me but thy love, and I
If thy presence cheer me.
When thou smilest near me.
Happy 'twere, beloved one,
To thy fond arms retiring ;