Parliamentary Letters, and Other Poems By Q. in the Corner [i.e. N. T. H. Bayly] |
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TO A Lady WITH A LOCK OF HAIR. |
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 | Parliamentary Letters, and Other Poems |  |
69
TO A Lady WITH A LOCK OF HAIR.
Could locks of hair the thoughts unfold
Of those upon whose heads they curl'd,
You'd have a chance of being told
The sweetest sayings in the world.
Of those upon whose heads they curl'd,
You'd have a chance of being told
The sweetest sayings in the world.
Then would this little lock reveal
Each secret sigh, each fond regret;
All I have felt, and all I feel
For one I never can forget.
Each secret sigh, each fond regret;
All I have felt, and all I feel
For one I never can forget.
If it said true, 'twould say thou art
My daily care, my nightly dream,
The cherish'd idol of my heart,
My constant thought, my constant theme.
My daily care, my nightly dream,
The cherish'd idol of my heart,
My constant thought, my constant theme.
70
But ah! it owns no magic spell
To be the record of my woes;
And I will guard my griefs too well,
To let them injure your repose.
To be the record of my woes;
And I will guard my griefs too well,
To let them injure your repose.
And wherefore should I wish you here,—
The hope is vain, it cannot be;
For other scenes to you are dear,
And other friends have banish'd me.
The hope is vain, it cannot be;
For other scenes to you are dear,
And other friends have banish'd me.
Perhaps their words more warmth impart,
A nobler form perhaps they own;
But none can bear a warmer heart,
Or love you more than I have done.
A nobler form perhaps they own;
But none can bear a warmer heart,
Or love you more than I have done.
Their eyes more lustre may possess,
Their lips more skill'd in flattery's lore;
Yet though perhaps I please you less,
I feel they cannot love you more.
Their lips more skill'd in flattery's lore;
Yet though perhaps I please you less,
I feel they cannot love you more.
71
The trees their pendant blossoms bear,
The bowers their former shade renew;
But not again to deck your hair,
But not again to shelter you.
The bowers their former shade renew;
But not again to deck your hair,
But not again to shelter you.
The lawns as soft a verdure boast,
The same enjoyments still remain;
'Tis I am changed, 'tis I have lost
The joys, the hopes that warm'd me then.
The same enjoyments still remain;
'Tis I am changed, 'tis I have lost
The joys, the hopes that warm'd me then.
Yet still at eve I wander there,
Our former walks I still may see;
The walks remain—but where, oh! where
Is she who made them dear to me?
Our former walks I still may see;
The walks remain—but where, oh! where
Is she who made them dear to me?
Because my tears have pass'd away,
The world may think I love you less;
But features would be seldom gay,
Did all disclose their wretchedness.
The world may think I love you less;
But features would be seldom gay,
Did all disclose their wretchedness.
72
'Tis true they never see me weep;
They little think the pangs I feel;
But no affliction is so deep
As that we labour to conceal.
They little think the pangs I feel;
But no affliction is so deep
As that we labour to conceal.
I care not what befals me now.—
Can ought on earth deserve my care?—
I know these things are past; but how
Can I forget that “such things were?”
Can ought on earth deserve my care?—
I know these things are past; but how
Can I forget that “such things were?”
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