 | Poems descriptive, dramatic, legendary and contemplative |  |
[II. Hadst thou come sooner! But 'tis not too late]
Hadst thou come sooner! But 'tis not too lateTo soothe, though late to save! Thou canst not know
The profligate waste of hope, the scorn of fate
Which brings me now to this unmeasured woe!
The bitter birthright of unreckoning will,
The much too perfect freedom of my youth—
122
Given by a fate as void of love as truth!
To these I owe this sorrow, and to these
The ruin that awaits my little bark,
Driven with too docile breezes on the seas
Till on the rocks, when skies grew sudden dark,
Foundering, she darted high, to sink as low
As hate might joy to see, as guilt and grief may go.
| Poems descriptive, dramatic, legendary and contemplative | |