 | Poems |  |
247
SONG.
[So hath it ended, and for ever]
So hath it ended, and for ever,
That happy dream—since 'twas a dream—
Which, 'gainst my heart's first faint endeavour,
Soon rocked that heart on passion's stream.
That happy dream—since 'twas a dream—
Which, 'gainst my heart's first faint endeavour,
Soon rocked that heart on passion's stream.
'Tis ended, and I have endured,—
Though with what withering agony!
To disappointment long inured,
Now, now it seemeth new to me.
Though with what withering agony!
To disappointment long inured,
Now, now it seemeth new to me.
Well, it hath ended, and for ever,
That happy dream, the pure, the deep;
Yet, must I from its memory sever?
No! still I worship that, and weep.
That happy dream, the pure, the deep;
Yet, must I from its memory sever?
No! still I worship that, and weep.
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