And listen to the sweet birds singing In merry, merry glee, The fountains through the green woods ringing And leaping sportively, And feel alone. Then onward wind from hill to dale, That still to cheer me ever fail My heart's a solitude, Forlorn and lone. I gaze upon the quiet sky, In starry splendor dressed, And view beyond with fancy's eye A world where angels rest, Yet feel alone. At any other time than this These would my spirit cheer, And animate it with the bliss That becks me in yon sphere, When I feel lone. But since the voice of that dear one, That Heaven has destined here To guide my weary footsteps on, Falls not upon mine ear, I feel alone. And not till he again shall come Can this sad heart know bliss, My weary spirit reassume Its wonted cheerfulness, And not feel lone. LINES ON SEEING THE INCONSTANT WEEPING. "Tis guilt! the canker-worm that clings. . Its deadly fangs around thy heart, And o'er thy soul its mildew flings, And bids thy earthly peace depart. Thy brow, false one! is pale and wan, Alas! 'tis sad, but no less true, That gems when ours lose half their gloss, The heart thou mourn'st thou hast possessed, False one! thou couldst not prize it then, Its hallowed love was spurned by thee— That heart can ne'er be thine again— Thy falsehood bade it thence be free. WHEN WE GIVE UP THE DEAD. AROUND the couch may hover Death, And steal away the parting breath ; The sheet and shroud in pallid fold Their forms are in the coffin laid, And earth's last sacred rite is paid; And taste grief's bitterest cup. But when the grave we gather round, And o'er its dark edge eager bend, And hear the rumbling earth descend, Ah! then it is we give them up, And taste grief's bitterest cup. |