University of Virginia Library


43

AGNES.

O thou hast mourned enough, and more than measure,
In thy despair!
Rivers of weeping call not back thy treasure,
Nor floods of prayer
Save thee no tress of all her golden hair!
Be patient and put on
A cheerful mask;
Brace firm thy will,—
And soon the sense of ill
Will lighten in the task.
Nature, you tell me, doth herself renew,
And grief wears out as wound or hurt will do;
Still must the scar remain!
Nature renews the flowers each spring,—
The self-same flower she cannot bring
To life again.

44

One blossom flowereth not two separate years;
The death of winter changeth all—and fears
Have I, that never through that long hereafter
May come my love's bright smile, or happy laughter,—
That lives but in the past, or in my dreams,
As faded sunset hangs in night its gleams.
Fate's rigour chill'd the marble of thy breast,
Love's tragedy hath snapt the crystal thread,
And sealed for an inevitable rest
The gracious lips to silence forfeited.
If love be tears, if life an endless pain,
Annihilation is the fairer gain!