 | Poems |  |
45
IN AN ALBUM.
You bid me write, what must appear,
Amid these pages bright and gay,
A tear, where all are ‘wreathed smiles,’
A ‘cloud upon a sunny day.’
Amid these pages bright and gay,
A tear, where all are ‘wreathed smiles,’
A ‘cloud upon a sunny day.’
Is it that fond remembrance here
May find forgotten scenes again—
As cherished locks of hair remind
Of those who're past all joy and pain?
May find forgotten scenes again—
As cherished locks of hair remind
Of those who're past all joy and pain?
If so, should gladness light my life
And bright my future fortunes be,
This record will but raise a smile,
A sneer, in those who coldly see.
And bright my future fortunes be,
This record will but raise a smile,
A sneer, in those who coldly see.
But if misfortune dim my days,
And storm arise and cloud appear,
Perhaps it might obtain a sigh—
If not too much to ask—a tear.
And storm arise and cloud appear,
Perhaps it might obtain a sigh—
If not too much to ask—a tear.
Then why require my lonely grief
O'er others joy its shade to throw?
Why bid me ask a happier heart
To share in private selfish woe?
O'er others joy its shade to throw?
Why bid me ask a happier heart
To share in private selfish woe?
Christmas, 1829.
| Poems | |