 | Forest leaves |  |
TO THE DEAD.
Oh, come, one moment, from the spirit-land
My injur'd love. This poor heart cries to thee
For ever, day and night.—Oh come, dear love,
And listen to my agonizing plea.
My injur'd love. This poor heart cries to thee
For ever, day and night.—Oh come, dear love,
And listen to my agonizing plea.
I neither knew thy heart, or mine, fond love,
When I addres'd to thee those proud cold words,
Those bitter cruel words,—Oh that sweet breath,
Should wound more keenly, than the sharpest swords.
When I addres'd to thee those proud cold words,
Those bitter cruel words,—Oh that sweet breath,
Should wound more keenly, than the sharpest swords.
I did not know—indeed I knew not then,
That they were false, and cruel, and would be
Death to thy generous bosom, and keen pangs
Of living, writhing agony to me.
That they were false, and cruel, and would be
Death to thy generous bosom, and keen pangs
Of living, writhing agony to me.
Oh! I would give a thousand years of life
With all earth's wealth, and honor, thrones, and powers,
If all were mine, to purchase from the Past,
The irrevocable Past—one little hour.
With all earth's wealth, and honor, thrones, and powers,
If all were mine, to purchase from the Past,
The irrevocable Past—one little hour.
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That hour in which I threw thee from my heart,
With cold, proud taunting—Oh! great God! forgive!
Vain prayer.—There is no word of peace for me,
Since there's no word to bid my victim live.
With cold, proud taunting—Oh! great God! forgive!
Vain prayer.—There is no word of peace for me,
Since there's no word to bid my victim live.
Dear love, Oh, come to me one little hour,
And let me kneel before thee, at thy feet,
And there unsay those bitter heartless words,
And pray thee to forgive them, and forget.
And let me kneel before thee, at thy feet,
And there unsay those bitter heartless words,
And pray thee to forgive them, and forget.
Oh, come to me, one hour! and let me gaze
Into the loving soul of thy blue eye,—
I know thy generous spirit would forgive,
If thou could'st gaze upon mine agony.
Into the loving soul of thy blue eye,—
I know thy generous spirit would forgive,
If thou could'st gaze upon mine agony.
I know thou would'st forgive me, though I turn'd
Cold-hearted, and indignant from thy plea;
Thou would'st forgive, if I could tell thee all,—
And how I lov'd thee, while I murder'd thee.
Cold-hearted, and indignant from thy plea;
Thou would'st forgive, if I could tell thee all,—
And how I lov'd thee, while I murder'd thee.
Yes, I did murder thee! I gave thy years
Of hope and usefulness to the cold tomb;
But did I kill thy soul?—That thought—Oh, God!
It gnaws my spirit, from the place of gloom.
Of hope and usefulness to the cold tomb;
But did I kill thy soul?—That thought—Oh, God!
It gnaws my spirit, from the place of gloom.
Oh, did'st thou worship me? and did I stand
Between thee, and the Merciful? If so
There is for me no hope—I yield my soul
To endless tortures of despairing wo.
Between thee, and the Merciful? If so
There is for me no hope—I yield my soul
To endless tortures of despairing wo.
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Yet come—though I may never be forgiven,
Come but one moment. It would ease my breast
To know that though I reft thee of thy life,
Thou dwellest in the Paradise of rest.
Come but one moment. It would ease my breast
To know that though I reft thee of thy life,
Thou dwellest in the Paradise of rest.
I plead in vain.—Thou wilt not, can'st not come
From that dim far-off land of mystery—
Oh, then I pray thee—let me hear thy voice,
Ah me!—There comes no voice, but memory.
From that dim far-off land of mystery—
Oh, then I pray thee—let me hear thy voice,
Ah me!—There comes no voice, but memory.
And she repeats thy tender pleading words,
And shows the wealth of friendship, truth, and love,
That thou did'st lavish on me. She repeats
The words that broke thy hopes, the hopes I wove.
And shows the wealth of friendship, truth, and love,
That thou did'st lavish on me. She repeats
The words that broke thy hopes, the hopes I wove.
The words that were thy death-doom—Oh, I weep,
But tears are no relief to this swoll'n heart;
Each drop but seems to burn into my soul,
And bid a thousand drops more bitter start.
But tears are no relief to this swoll'n heart;
Each drop but seems to burn into my soul,
And bid a thousand drops more bitter start.
Thy latest thought of me was bath'd in tears,
In unavailing tears,—yet O! believe,
If I had been beside thee, in that hour
My love, my grief, had won thee to forgive.
In unavailing tears,—yet O! believe,
If I had been beside thee, in that hour
My love, my grief, had won thee to forgive.
I would have laid my naked heart on thine,
And thus have sooth'd and saved thee.—Oh, vain thought!
That would propitiate thus the spectral past—
Thy heart lies crush'd within the shroud I wrought.
And thus have sooth'd and saved thee.—Oh, vain thought!
That would propitiate thus the spectral past—
Thy heart lies crush'd within the shroud I wrought.
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Yet penitence goes up with anguish'd prayer,
And pleads for mercy, at the throne of heaven—
Oh, let her bring some token, some sweet pledge
That thou art blest, dear love, and I forgiven.
And pleads for mercy, at the throne of heaven—
Oh, let her bring some token, some sweet pledge
That thou art blest, dear love, and I forgiven.
| Forest leaves | |