And speak kind words-but speak in vain, And try with smiles, and mirth, and song, To brink back cheerfulness again,

And mitigate their cruel wrong.

But hot tears stealing from mine eye,
The hectic deep'ning on my cheek,
The hollow moan, and broken sigh,
Their fatal work too late will speak.

II.

MY LOVE FOR THEE.

A SONG.

My love for thee was not of earth,

'Twas fraught with that celestial zeal, That ne'er in coarser souls hath birth,

That none but heavenward spirits feel; It flung around my soul a spell

That ne'er can die with earth's farewell.

It filled my mind with purer themes,
It taught me language erst unknown,
Gave loftier flight to fancy's dreams,

My lute inspired with sweeter tone;

And flung around my soul a spell

That ne'er can die with earth's farewell

It shed below a holier light

Than ever sun or star hath given,

It rent the films that veiled my sight,

Forever linked my thoughts with heaven;

And flung around my soul a spell

That ne'er can die with earth's farewell.

III.

IMPROMPTU

ON BEING ASKED "WHY THIS GLOOM?"

Ask not, alas! whence is this gloom,

This dark cloud on my brow,

Why fadeth thus my cheek's fresh bloom,

Or why so pensive now.

Ask not, dear friend, why steal the tears

In silence from mine eye,

Why anguish in my look appears,

Or why so oft I sigh ;

For there are woes too deep for speech,

Feelings too finely strung

For human sympathy to reach,

Sorrows that have no tongue.

IV.

THE HEART'S WORST PANG.

Ir is a wo beyond all other woes,

A canker over which the heart may close,

But cannot heal. A gnawing worm, whose tooth
Saps in the bud the flowerets of life's youth,
And makes the heart a ruin-a lone waste

Where only spring the weeds of bitterness-
An aspic coiled around the cup of bliss,

Whose sparkling draughts, alas! we dare not taste!
The deepest sorrow that stern Fate can bring

In all her catalogue of suffering:

An eating rust-the spirit's direst pain,

To love-adore-and be beloved again,

Yet know between us lies a gulf that ever

Our forms, our hopes, our destinies must sever.

And flung around my soul a spell

That ne'er can die with earth's farewell

It shed below a holier light

Than ever sun or star hath given,

It rent the films that veiled my sight,

Forever linked my thoughts with heaven;

And flung around my soul a spell

That ne'er can die with earth's farewell.

III.

IMPROMPTU

ON BEING ASKED "WHY THIS GLOOM?"

Ask not, alas! whence is this gloom,

This dark cloud on my brow,

Why fadeth thus my cheek's fresh bloom,

Or why so pensive now.

Ask not, dear friend, why steal the tears

In silence from mine eye,

Why anguish in my look appears,

Or why so oft I sigh ;

For there are woes too deep for speech,

Feelings too finely strung

For human sympathy to reach,

Sorrows that have no tongue.

IV.

THE HEART'S WORST PANG.

It is a wo beyond all other woes,

A canker over which the heart may close,

But cannot heal. A gnawing worm, whose tooth
Saps in the bud the flowerets of life's youth,
And makes the heart a ruin-a lone waste

Where only spring the weeds of bitterness—
An aspic coiled around the cup of bliss,

Whose sparkling draughts, alas! we dare not taste!
The deepest sorrow that stern Fate can bring

In all her catalogue of suffering :

An eating rust-the spirit's direst pain,

To love-adore-and be beloved again,

Yet know between us lies a gulf that ever

Our forms, our hopes, our destinies must sever.