 | Miscellaneous Poems |  |
5
A. B.
[One said—“He counted it a crime]
One said—“He counted it a crime
To mourn for any overmuch.”—
Alas! it is in mourning such
As her I lov'd, I conquer Time.
To mourn for any overmuch.”—
Alas! it is in mourning such
As her I lov'd, I conquer Time.
Who loves the living—he must see
What most he cherish'd, disappear;
They fade, change, vanish year by year;
Earth's sorrow is o'er all that be.
What most he cherish'd, disappear;
They fade, change, vanish year by year;
Earth's sorrow is o'er all that be.
Sweet bells, that welcome home the bride,
On silver wings of music flown;
For her to-morrow change your tone,
Who in her morn of gladness died.
On silver wings of music flown;
For her to-morrow change your tone,
Who in her morn of gladness died.
Then let me sit beside her grave,
Mid those pale violets blooming there;
And think, like them, as sweet, as fair,
Was she, whose presence now I crave.
Mid those pale violets blooming there;
And think, like them, as sweet, as fair,
Was she, whose presence now I crave.
| Miscellaneous Poems | |