Yet, by thine hair so lightly flowing, And by those eyes, whose tranquil beam I do not murmur that another Hath gained the love I could not wake; I look on him as on a brother, And do not hate him-for thy sake. And, Mary, when I gaze on thee, And happy-in thine happiness. III. A FLOWER, in Nature's fairest dress, That blush was not for me! Oh! not for me, right well I knew; And yet I watched it where it grew, And often from my heart I prayed I could have borne to see it bloom And when that Flower, in future days, Still living and still blest, I should have spoke a calmer tone, But thus to find it hurled away That lingers on the tongue! Alas! and doth it come to this, Mary, thy cherished dream of bliss! Gone is the color from thy cheek, In ignorance supremely blest, Thy child is slumbering on thy breast, I love to muse on thee by night! Cling to the wounds it makes; Where are ye now, ye coldly wise, Who scorn the mourner when he sighs, Yours is the lifelessness of life!— The pain-the bliss-the throb of tears! IV. I SAW thee wedded-thou didst go Thy young cheek in a blushing glow Thy heart was glad in maiden glee, Was faithless all the while; I hid the love that could not die, Its doubts, and hopes, and fears, And buried all my misery In secrecy and tears; And days passed on, and thou didst prove The pang of unrequited love E'en in thine early years; And thou didst die-so fair and goodIn silence, and in solitude! While thou wert living, I did hide Affection's secret pains: I'd not have shocked thy modest pride But thou hast perished, and the fire That, often checked, could ne'er expire, Again unhidden reigns: It is no crime to speak my vow, Thou sleepest 'neath thy lowly stone He does not kneel where I have knelt; The anguish still and deep, The painful thoughts of what has been, But I-as o'er the dark blue wave My thoughts are hovering o'er thy grave, There is one voice that wails thee yet, One heart that cannot e'er forget (1820-1821.) |