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Lyrics of the heart

With other poems. By Alaric A. Watts. With forty-one engravings on steel

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191

I THINK OF THEE!

I think of thee, I think of thee,
And all that thou hast borne for me;—
In hours of gloom, or heartless glee,
I think of thee—I think of thee!
When fiercest rage the storms of Fate,
And all around is desolate,
I pour on life's tempestuous sea
The oil of peace with thoughts of thee!
When Fortune frowns, and Hope deceives me,
And summer-friendship veers and leaves me,
A Timon from the world I flee;
My wreck of wealth, sweet dreams of thee!
Or if I join the careless crowd
Where laughter peals, and mirth grows loud,
Even in my hours of revelry
I think of thee, I think of thee!

192

I think of thee, I think and sigh
O'er blighted years and bliss gone by;—
And mourn the stern, severe decree
That hath but left me thoughts of thee!
In youth's gay hours, 'mid Pleasure's bowers,
When all was sunshine, mirth, and flowers,
We met; I bent the' adoring knee,
And told a tender tale to thee!
'Twas summer's eve; the heavens above,
Earth, ocean, air, were full of love;
Nature around kept jubilee,
When first I breathed that tale to thee!
The crystal arch that hung on high
Was blue as thy delicious eye;—
The stirless shore, and sleeping sea,
Seemed emblems of repose and thee!
I spoke of hope, I spoke of fear,—
Thy answer was a blush and tear;—
But this was eloquence to me,
And more than I had asked of thee!

193

I looked into thy dewy eye,
And echoed thy half stifled sigh,—
I clasped thy hand and vowed to be
The soul of love and truth to thee!
That scene and hour have past; yet still
Remains a deep, impassioned thrill,—
A sun-set glow on memory,
That kindles at a thought of thee
We loved; how wildly, and how well
'Twere worse than idle now to tell:
From love and life alike thou'rt free,
And I am left—to think of thee!
Though years, long years, have darkly sped
Since thou wert numbered with the dead,
In fancy oft thy form I see,—
In dreams, at least, I'm still with thee!
Thy beauty, helplessness, and youth,—
Thy hapless fate, untiring truth;
Are spells that often touch the key
Of sweet but mournful thoughts of thee!

194

The bitter frown of friends estranged;
The chilling straits of fortunes changed;
All this, and more, were borne for me;—
Then how can I be false to thee!
I never will: I'll think of thee
Till fades the power of memory:
In weal or woe, in gloom or glee,
I'll think of thee! I'll think of thee!