 | Morning Glories : |  |
SLUMBERING PASSION.
Can it be true, that we can meet,
As other strangers in the street;
No deep emotions quickly rise,
No hidden language in our eyes,
No sudden crimson-mantled cheek,
No thrilling word of pleasure speak?
As other strangers in the street;
No deep emotions quickly rise,
No hidden language in our eyes,
No sudden crimson-mantled cheek,
No thrilling word of pleasure speak?
Yes! Thine was love of yesterday;
This morning found it far away,
In search of newer conquests gone,
Leaving me desolate and lone,
In vain I sought to break the spell,
My strenuous efforts fruitless fell.
This morning found it far away,
In search of newer conquests gone,
Leaving me desolate and lone,
In vain I sought to break the spell,
My strenuous efforts fruitless fell.
The cloud o'erspread my sunny sky,
And settled slowly like a pall,
And clad my life in misery,
And swept it clear of pleasures all,
Remembrance brings me only pain,
My love, my truest love lies slain.
And settled slowly like a pall,
And clad my life in misery,
And swept it clear of pleasures all,
24
My love, my truest love lies slain.
Henceforth in loneliness I grope
My way, until my life shall end;
Among the hopeful without hope,
Among the friendly without friend—
My heart unto its depth is shaken,
My love, untiring love forsaken.
My way, until my life shall end;
Among the hopeful without hope,
Among the friendly without friend—
My heart unto its depth is shaken,
My love, untiring love forsaken.
| Morning Glories : | |