Rhymes and Recollections of a Hand-Loom Weaver By William Thom. Edited, with a Biographical Sketch, by W. Skinner |
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 | Rhymes and Recollections of a Hand-Loom Weaver |  |
73
SECOND LOVE.
“The breast that has felt love justly shrinks from the idea of its total extinction
as from annihilation itself.”
Oh, say not Love will never
Breathe in that breast again!
That where he bled must ever
All pleasureless remain.
Shall tempest-riven blossom,
When fair leaves fall away,
In coldness close its bosom
'Gainst beams of milder day?
Oh never, nay!
It blooms where'er it may.
Breathe in that breast again!
That where he bled must ever
All pleasureless remain.
Shall tempest-riven blossom,
When fair leaves fall away,
In coldness close its bosom
'Gainst beams of milder day?
Oh never, nay!
It blooms where'er it may.
Though ruthless tempest tear—
Though biting frosts subdue,
And leave no tendril where
Love's pretty flow'rets grew;
The soil all ravaged so
Will nurture more and more,
And stately roses blow
Where daisies droop'd before;
Then why, oh! why
Should sweet love ever die?
Though biting frosts subdue,
And leave no tendril where
Love's pretty flow'rets grew;
The soil all ravaged so
Will nurture more and more,
And stately roses blow
Where daisies droop'd before;
Then why, oh! why
Should sweet love ever die?
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