 | Metrical essays |  |
164
THE MOURNER
Break! break my lonely heart—thou wert not madeTo stem the treach'rous billows of Life's sea;
Earth's sweets are rife—but they bloom not for thee—
Thy cherish'd hopes in one brief moment fade;
Canker and blight thy tender buds invade,
While stranger flowers 'mid summer light spring free.
O! thus for ever comes some dire decree,
To cast thy bright'ning heaven into shade;
Whate'er thou prizedst, its sure decay was fleet:
Alas, thou hast but served whereon to make
A burning record of man's black deceit!
Of friendship false!—of love that could forsake!—
When will thy cup of misery be replete?
My heart—my heavy heart—forget,—or break!
| Metrical essays | |