 | The magic fountain |  |
159
SWEET AS A ROSE.
Sweet as a rose in Morning's tear!
I feel my heart is thine, Mary;
But though I could be now sincere,
Thou never canst be mine, Mary.
I feel my heart is thine, Mary;
But though I could be now sincere,
Thou never canst be mine, Mary.
My soul, though formed for raptures high,
Hath sunk in Passion's storm, Mary;
And 'twere a crime in such as I
To clasp an Angel's form, Mary.
Hath sunk in Passion's storm, Mary;
And 'twere a crime in such as I
To clasp an Angel's form, Mary.
And all my views are wrapped in gloom,
No sunbeam shines on me, Mary,
Thy smile could give them light and bloom,
But that were woe to thee, Mary.
No sunbeam shines on me, Mary,
Thy smile could give them light and bloom,
But that were woe to thee, Mary.
160
No! let me suffer—'tis my fate—
Unwept by mortal eye, Mary;
But O! be thine the happiest state
Beneath the calmest sky, Mary!
Unwept by mortal eye, Mary;
But O! be thine the happiest state
Beneath the calmest sky, Mary!
Then, on the clouds that dim my day,
One thought, to cheer my breast, Mary,
Shall softly shed its rainbow-ray—
The thought that thou art blest, Mary!
One thought, to cheer my breast, Mary,
Shall softly shed its rainbow-ray—
The thought that thou art blest, Mary!
| The magic fountain | |