 | The poetical works of William H. C. Hosmer |  |
366
THE DOOMED ONE.
There is on that sweet young face
A dread but dazzling whiteness,
And in that eye of love I trace
A wild, unearthly brightness.
By faithless man betrayed,
The world seems dark before thee,
And soon, in hall of silence laid,
Will the green turf blossom o'er thee.
A dread but dazzling whiteness,
And in that eye of love I trace
A wild, unearthly brightness.
By faithless man betrayed,
The world seems dark before thee,
And soon, in hall of silence laid,
Will the green turf blossom o'er thee.
Thy voice is sadder now
Than the wind-harp's wail at even,
And victim of a broken vow,
Thine only hope is heaven.
Nor mineral of earth,
Nor balm of leaf or blossom
Can tune again to throb of mirth
The chords of thy torn bosom.
Than the wind-harp's wail at even,
And victim of a broken vow,
Thine only hope is heaven.
Nor mineral of earth,
Nor balm of leaf or blossom
Can tune again to throb of mirth
The chords of thy torn bosom.
Old songs, the precious keys
To memory's golden treasures,
Have lost their magic power to please,
Though sang to touching measures.
By friendly lip in vain
Is soothing language spoken,
For ruined is the fine-wrought brain,
And thine o'er-tasked heart is broken.
To memory's golden treasures,
Have lost their magic power to please,
Though sang to touching measures.
By friendly lip in vain
Is soothing language spoken,
For ruined is the fine-wrought brain,
And thine o'er-tasked heart is broken.
Thy darkest doom, oh earth!
For that cold, base deceiver,
Who calls the star of affection forth,
Then dims its light forever—
And when the mortal goal
He reaches unforgiven,
For aye may his polluted soul
Feel the withering curse of heaven.
For that cold, base deceiver,
Who calls the star of affection forth,
Then dims its light forever—
And when the mortal goal
He reaches unforgiven,
For aye may his polluted soul
Feel the withering curse of heaven.
| The poetical works of William H. C. Hosmer | |