 | The Village Churchyard |  |
185
THE REMONSTRANCE.
And say'st thou that I should not weep,
But haughtily my griefs control?
Little thou know'st how dark, how deep
Are sorrow, and my secret soul!
But haughtily my griefs control?
Little thou know'st how dark, how deep
Are sorrow, and my secret soul!
I have but few dim hopes here now;
The few I have, seem plumed for flight:
With unshed tears aches this pale brow;
My future 's nothing, or—'t is night!
The few I have, seem plumed for flight:
With unshed tears aches this pale brow;
My future 's nothing, or—'t is night!
Mine only hate, is to be here;
Mine only wish, must be to die:
Oh! could my life melt in a tear,
My soul pass on a sigh!
Mine only wish, must be to die:
Oh! could my life melt in a tear,
My soul pass on a sigh!
186
And thou would'st have me smile! Not so;
'T would agonise this frozen heart:
'T is deadened now by crushing woe;
Ah! unawakened let it part!
'T would agonise this frozen heart:
'T is deadened now by crushing woe;
Ah! unawakened let it part!
Love's loveliest guerdons I have won!
Leave, leave me to my blackened doom—
A hope destroyed—a heart undone:
His costliest gift shall be—the tomb!
Leave, leave me to my blackened doom—
A hope destroyed—a heart undone:
His costliest gift shall be—the tomb!
When thou dost dream 't is sunlight all,
I see the encroaching shadows steal,
And hear a faint, unearthly call,
Through festal music's loudest peal!
I see the encroaching shadows steal,
And hear a faint, unearthly call,
Through festal music's loudest peal!
And oh! in smiles, to thee so dear,
I mark the mock of destiny;—
They but embitter more the tear,
That still shall follow as they fly!
I mark the mock of destiny;—
They but embitter more the tear,
That still shall follow as they fly!
187
Yet think not—ah! beware of thinking
That I would exile smiles from thee;
Nor deem my spirit's love is shrinking
From thy heart's joyauncy.
That I would exile smiles from thee;
Nor deem my spirit's love is shrinking
From thy heart's joyauncy.
I would not, could not, e'en in love,
One dimple from that cheek displace—
Wish thee one warning pang to prove—
One light hope from thy bosom chase!
One dimple from that cheek displace—
Wish thee one warning pang to prove—
One light hope from thy bosom chase!
If in my heart self-love remains,
'T is a harsh love—unpitying, stern;
Covetous of soul-chastening pains—
Studious life's deadliest truths to learn.
'T is a harsh love—unpitying, stern;
Covetous of soul-chastening pains—
Studious life's deadliest truths to learn.
But oh! the love I feel for thee
Is weak, as womanhood is weak;
Tender, as tenderest infancy;
All humbly mild—all gently meek!
Is weak, as womanhood is weak;
Tender, as tenderest infancy;
All humbly mild—all gently meek!
188
But few have been the visitings
Of young Joy to my heavy heart;
But when I wish thy pleasures wings,
May my last hope depart!
Of young Joy to my heavy heart;
But when I wish thy pleasures wings,
May my last hope depart!
My bosom-knowledge is but slight
Of Happiness, and her glad train;
But would I damp thy soul's delight,
Or make thee partner of my pain?
Of Happiness, and her glad train;
But would I damp thy soul's delight,
Or make thee partner of my pain?
Each tear I'd draw from those dear eyes,
May it be mine, e'en mine to shed;
Each cloud I'd weave o'er thy life's skies,
Burst o'er my long-devoted head.
May it be mine, e'en mine to shed;
Each cloud I'd weave o'er thy life's skies,
Burst o'er my long-devoted head.
Ere I can wish thee cause for care,
Redoubled be mine every sigh;
Be it mine each threatened ill to bear—
Destined for either fate—and die!
Redoubled be mine every sigh;
Be it mine each threatened ill to bear—
Destined for either fate—and die!
| The Village Churchyard | |