 | Judith, Esther, and other poems |  |
TO --- ---.
Yes, thou art sad—I know not why,
And care not; whatsoe'er it be,
That wakes the long and frequent sigh,
Fair youth, I can but pity thee.
And care not; whatsoe'er it be,
That wakes the long and frequent sigh,
Fair youth, I can but pity thee.
Oh! o'er the heart, whose circling streams
The chill of sorrow oft have known,
A melancholy pleasure beams,
While with another it may moan.
The chill of sorrow oft have known,
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While with another it may moan.
And, like Meschaceba's
viny flower,
A secret, silken, soothing tie
From each to either bosom's bower,
Is wafted by an airy sigh.
A secret, silken, soothing tie
From each to either bosom's bower,
Is wafted by an airy sigh.
Yet sure thou ne'er wert doomed to know,
Aught but the mildest smiles of Fate—
What is it then can pain thee so,
And such untimely gloom create?
Aught but the mildest smiles of Fate—
What is it then can pain thee so,
And such untimely gloom create?
Has some long treasured friend grown cold,
And left thy bosom lone and drear?
Or has some maid of faithless mould
Defeated hopes and wishes dear?
And left thy bosom lone and drear?
Or has some maid of faithless mould
Defeated hopes and wishes dear?
If friends once true forsake thee now,
With scorn their perfidy repay—
If Love's bright chaplet galls thy brow,
Oh! throw the thorny flowers away.
With scorn their perfidy repay—
If Love's bright chaplet galls thy brow,
Oh! throw the thorny flowers away.
But what are precepts? let them cease!
They lighten not the soul opprest—
The sufferer vainly hears of peace,
The heart that's bleeding will not rest.
They lighten not the soul opprest—
The sufferer vainly hears of peace,
The heart that's bleeding will not rest.
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Oh! thou art sad—I know not why,
Nor will I ask—whate'er it be,
That wakes the long and frequent sigh—
Still, from my soul, I pity thee.
Nor will I ask—whate'er it be,
That wakes the long and frequent sigh—
Still, from my soul, I pity thee.
| Judith, Esther, and other poems | |