The poems of Mrs. Emma Catherine Embury | ||
301
SONG.
Love her? No! for passion blendeth
Ever with the heart's young dream;
And earth's evil shadow lendeth
Darkness to life's purest beam;
Still with jealous hopes and fears
Love has marked his weary lot,
Tracing every step by tears;
Then be sure I love her not.
Ever with the heart's young dream;
And earth's evil shadow lendeth
Darkness to life's purest beam;
Still with jealous hopes and fears
Love has marked his weary lot,
Tracing every step by tears;
Then be sure I love her not.
Love her? No! such fire ne'er burneth
Save when sighing fans the flame;
While the bosom wildly yearneth,
Nursing hopes it dares not name;
Since desires the soul may stir,
Vague and vain, yet unforgot,
I would guard sweet thoughts of her,
But be sure to love her not.
Save when sighing fans the flame;
While the bosom wildly yearneth,
Nursing hopes it dares not name;
Since desires the soul may stir,
Vague and vain, yet unforgot,
I would guard sweet thoughts of her,
But be sure to love her not.
Love her? No! my heart inurneth
Ashes she can ne'er illume;
And the lamp that in me burneth
Shines, a lamp within a tomb;
On my brow the seal is set,
Sorrow never sets in vain;
Time may teach me to forget,
But I cannot love again.
Ashes she can ne'er illume;
And the lamp that in me burneth
Shines, a lamp within a tomb;
On my brow the seal is set,
Sorrow never sets in vain;
Time may teach me to forget,
But I cannot love again.
Love her? No! pure, deep devotion
Such as angel hearts might prize,
Stills my bosom's wild emotion
When I meet her earnest eyes;
Like a high and holy star
Cheereth she my lonely lot;
I may worship from afar,
But be sure I love her not.
Such as angel hearts might prize,
302
When I meet her earnest eyes;
Like a high and holy star
Cheereth she my lonely lot;
I may worship from afar,
But be sure I love her not.
The poems of Mrs. Emma Catherine Embury | ||