When I drop the year-long struggle, Quit the black and noisy town. Come, then, love; and harebells, nodding, 'Mong the holly's berried boughs; "NOW THOU ART GONE." (A LAMENTATION.) HE twilight shadows, deep'ning into gloom, The book you read lies closed beneath my hands, Anon, the vanished hours before me rise, Thou, smiling sweetly, sit'st beside me here, "Tis but a moment, then 'tis gone again, But deepening in my heart its aching pain, The leaden days drag on so drearily, I have no pastime and no purpose now, The sun comes shining o'er the rimy tiles, The moon pours down its lustre on my brow But from them faded sadly is the light, I strive to lose myself in fiction's maze, Down from the cypress bough my lyre I take, But soon my eyes grow tear-bedewed and dim, My lyre gives forth but grieved and jarring strains- And no one comes to smile a fond relief, And no one mourns my weakness, soothes my grief, And no one points me upward towards the blaze, And no one thinks of me nor cares for me, I might, perhaps, have hoped and wrestled on, Nay, this I would have done, ("The will's the way,” Had but thyself, the guerdon of my toil, But what to me are now the smiles of fame? What have I here to strive and battle for, I loved thee-oh, my heart! thou wert my all! In gloaming time I wander down the lane, And scan the pathway over which you came Your dwelling of those days stands 'neath the hill, The yew tree nods its dark plumes just the same, I shrink away, my eyes with tears are wet, Oh! when will cease this constant, quenchless burning, This weary sense of helpless desolation, Now thou art gone ? I lift my aching eyes from day to day Towards where thou dwellest now, so far away! The pale horizon bounds my view, 'tis vain! I turn into myself, and strive to force My soul to drink at pleasure's gaudy source; But in my heart still throbs the old deep pain, I often wonder, dost thou ever think Of that seared, silent heart thou left'st to drink Or if those mystic eyes with icy gleams Shine coldly, if thou think'st of me, as in dreams You could not see the pain that wrung my heart 'Twas cruel, cruel! for if 'tis denied Our souls the bliss to meet on this dark side, Sure we may meet on yonder shore, where pain Oh! grant to me this one fond hope at least, But, blessings on thee through the coming years, A CHANT OF PRAISE. LIGHT of the Eternal! round my brow, For ever circling, moves the fluid air; And through the measureless expanse of calm Glows the empurpled ether, like a sea |