 | The poems of Mrs. Emma Catherine Embury |  |
STANZAS TO A FRIEND AFTER A LONG SEPARATION.
They tell me thou art cold and changed, they say thou hast forgot
The friendship that once bound our hearts, ere sorrow crossed thy lot;
But when on thy familiar face I fix my saddened gaze,
And listen to thy well-known voice, the echo of past days,
The pleasant memories of youth come thronging round my heart,—
I think but of the friend thou wert, and heed not what thou art.
The friendship that once bound our hearts, ere sorrow crossed thy lot;
But when on thy familiar face I fix my saddened gaze,
And listen to thy well-known voice, the echo of past days,
The pleasant memories of youth come thronging round my heart,—
I think but of the friend thou wert, and heed not what thou art.
And yet I cannot deem thou art from friendship quite estranged,
Not always are the feelings chilled when most the mien is changed;
There is a sadness in thine eye, a shadow on thy brow,
Which tells me that the hand of care has done its work ere now:
And who by common laws would judge the heart that deeply grieves?
What eye may penetrate the veil that silent sorrow weaves?
Not always are the feelings chilled when most the mien is changed;
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Which tells me that the hand of care has done its work ere now:
And who by common laws would judge the heart that deeply grieves?
What eye may penetrate the veil that silent sorrow weaves?
O! when in after life the heart from hollow friendship turns,
How often o'er its early dreams in bitterness it yearns!
How oft it pines with vain regret o'er memories of the past,
When all the gloom that dimmed its sky by April clouds were cast;
And then, when all too late, it learns how much more holy truth
Than e'er again can bless our lot, was in the love of youth.
How often o'er its early dreams in bitterness it yearns!
How oft it pines with vain regret o'er memories of the past,
When all the gloom that dimmed its sky by April clouds were cast;
And then, when all too late, it learns how much more holy truth
Than e'er again can bless our lot, was in the love of youth.
| The poems of Mrs. Emma Catherine Embury | |