 | The Poetical Works of Robert Story |  |
O Thou art Fair.
1818.
[_]
[Written on Mary R---, a stately and blooming girl—at that time maid to the lady of the late Lieut. General Orde, at Roddam Hall.]
O thou art fair, and I am true,
I feel my heart is thine, Mary;
But though thou'rt fair, and I am true,
Thou never canst be mine, Mary!
I feel my heart is thine, Mary;
But though thou'rt fair, and I am true,
Thou never canst be mine, Mary!
My soul, though made for rapture high,
Hath sunk in passion's storm, Mary;
And it were sin in such as I
To clasp an Angel's form, Mary!
Hath sunk in passion's storm, Mary;
And it were sin in such as I
To clasp an Angel's form, Mary!
And all my views are wrapped in gloom,
No sunbeam shines on me, Mary;
Thy smile would give them light and bloom—
But that were woe to thee, Mary!
No sunbeam shines on me, Mary;
Thy smile would give them light and bloom—
But that were woe to thee, Mary!
No! let me suffer—'tis my fate—
Unwept by mortal eye, Mary;
But O! be thine the happiest state,
Beneath the calmest sky, Mary!
Unwept by mortal eye, Mary;
But O! be thine the happiest state,
Beneath the calmest sky, Mary!
4
Then on the cloud that dims my day,
One thought to cheer my breast, Mary,
Shall softly shed its rainbow-ray—
The thought that thou art blest, Mary!
One thought to cheer my breast, Mary,
Shall softly shed its rainbow-ray—
The thought that thou art blest, Mary!
| The Poetical Works of Robert Story | |