 | Impressions of Italy and Other Poems |  |
107
MY HEART!—POOR HEART!
My heart! poor heart! what pain thou givest me now!
Thou'rt like a very Death within my Life!
While scarcely to myself I dare avow
The cause—the fatal cause of all this strife.
Thou'rt like a very Death within my Life!
While scarcely to myself I dare avow
The cause—the fatal cause of all this strife.
My heart! poor heart! be quick, and deeply spread
Over mine whole Existence one blank hush.
They say that calm and peaceful are the Dead,
That their chilled breasts no future griefs can crush!
Over mine whole Existence one blank hush.
They say that calm and peaceful are the Dead,
That their chilled breasts no future griefs can crush!
But thou—oh! bitter are thy sufferings now,
A struggle—a stagnation—both in one!
The dead may rest in tranquil calm—but thou—
Oh! how in every way art thou undone.
A struggle—a stagnation—both in one!
The dead may rest in tranquil calm—but thou—
Oh! how in every way art thou undone.
108
My heart! poor heart! is thy dull torpor rest?
And is thy gloomy silence born of peace?
Oh! no! o'erwhelmed, bewildered, and oppressed,
The worst of pangs are there the last to cease.
And is thy gloomy silence born of peace?
Oh! no! o'erwhelmed, bewildered, and oppressed,
The worst of pangs are there the last to cease.
My heart! my heart! how buoyant once thou wert,
How burning and how winged with fluttering hope;
One careless error hath undone thee, heart!
And well thou hast learned thy part—to sink and droop!
How burning and how winged with fluttering hope;
One careless error hath undone thee, heart!
And well thou hast learned thy part—to sink and droop!
| Impressions of Italy and Other Poems | |