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158

SONNET X.

[Oh, She was almost speechless! nor could hold]

Oh, She was almost speechless! nor could hold
Awakening converse with me! (I shall bless
No more the modulated tenderness
Of that dear voice!) Alas, 'twas shrunk and cold,
Her honour'd face! yet, when I sought to speak,
Through her half-open'd eye-lids She did send
Faint looks, that said “I would be yet thy friend!”
And (Oh, my choak'd breast!) e'en on that shrunk cheek
I saw one slow tear roll! my hand She took,
Placing it on her heart—I heard her sigh,
“'Tis too, too much!” 'Twas Love's last agony!
I tore me from Her! 'Twas her latest look,
Her latest accents—Oh, my heart, retain
That look, those accents, till we meet again!