 | The path of sorrow, or, the lament of youth |  |
121
TO A FRIEND.
“Existence may be bourn, and the deep root
Of life and sufferance make its firm abode
In lone and desolated bosoms.”
Byron.
Of life and sufferance make its firm abode
In lone and desolated bosoms.”
Byron.
Oh! breath not my name, but in friendship and love,
Let the tear be the tribute you pay unto me,
For such kindness to me, shall be written above,
And the glory of heaven refunded to thee.
Oh! breath not, nor lisp not, the hour we met,
Let the soul's recollection inspirit the heart!
Oh! think not, nor feel not, the pangs of regret!
But remember,—the nearest and dearest must part!
This bosom of kindness, where billows shall roll—
This river of thought, to the fountain of life!
Is the test of my kindness, the badge of my soul—
The only pure symbol of sorrow and strife!
On this wild of regret, I have lived but a score—
This tribute I pay, as the gift of my heart,
Though we separate now, ne'er to meet any more,
Yet, thy name from my bosom shall never depart!
Oh! forget not the glory which beamed on my heart,
But revere me with kindness, affecion and love;
Though I loose thee on earth—and 'tis cruel to part,—
Yet, we never shall part, when I meet thee above!
Oh! whisper my name, but with tears of regret!
Be cautious to speak of the days of my youth—
Oh! breathe not, nor lisp not, the hour we met,
But remember—I speak but the tribute of truth.
Let the love of thy bosom triumphant arise,
And think of the morn I awoke in regret!
Let the tear from the heart,then illumine thine eyes;
But breathe not, nor lisp not, the hour we met.
'Tis the last of my childhood—my starlight is gone—
My candle of glory now ceases to shine:
122
'Tis friendship's divinity—claim it as thine.
| The path of sorrow, or, the lament of youth | |