 | [Poems by Payne in] John Howard Payne ... his life and writings |  |
327
THE LOSS OF THOSE WE LOVE.
The pang, of all severest,
Is the deep, withering one, that's borne
In being torn
From those we love the dearest.
Is the deep, withering one, that's borne
In being torn
From those we love the dearest.
Some griefs bear consolation!
There's none for this,—no, none! It breaks
The heart, and makes
The world a desolation!
There's none for this,—no, none! It breaks
The heart, and makes
The world a desolation!
| [Poems by Payne in] John Howard Payne ... his life and writings | |