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 | Poems by Frances Sargent Osgood |  |
LIII. GO, THEN, FOR EVER.
Go, then, for ever! since your heart
Can stoop to one so light, so vain,
Though Hope must perish if we part,
With calm resolve I break the chain.
Can stoop to one so light, so vain,
Though Hope must perish if we part,
With calm resolve I break the chain.
Go, then, for ever; at the shrine
Of Beauty bend that noble brow,
Pour forth the love I deem'd divine,
And more than waste wild Passion's vow.
Of Beauty bend that noble brow,
Pour forth the love I deem'd divine,
And more than waste wild Passion's vow.
Yes, yes! her eyes are stars of night;
Her cheek, a rose in dainty bloom;
Her radiant smile, the morning's light;
Her sigh, the violet's soft perfume.
Her cheek, a rose in dainty bloom;
Her radiant smile, the morning's light;
Her sigh, the violet's soft perfume.
Go, then, for ever; leave the soul
From which your lightest look or tone—
As zephyr o'er the air-harp stole—
Could wake a music all your own.
From which your lightest look or tone—
As zephyr o'er the air-harp stole—
Could wake a music all your own.
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Leave, leave me with my breaking heart;
If Grief would let me, I could smile,
To see an idle toy of art
So grand a soul as yours beguile.
If Grief would let me, I could smile,
To see an idle toy of art
So grand a soul as yours beguile.
But when, through Beauty's veil of light,
You seek in vain for Feeling's fire,
Remember one whose day is night,
Who breaks for you her heart and lyre!
You seek in vain for Feeling's fire,
Remember one whose day is night,
Who breaks for you her heart and lyre!
| Poems by Frances Sargent Osgood | |