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Thy lover's eye, so glazed and cold, dares not
entreat thy stay:
Duty and dereliction guide thee back to solitude.
Away, away! to thy sad and silent home;
Pour bitter tears on its desolated hearth; Watch the dim shades as like ghosts they go and come,
And complicate strange webs of melancholy mirth.
The leaves of wasted autumn woods shall float around thine head:
The blooms of dewy spring shall gleam beneath thy feet:
But thy soul or this world must fade in the frost that binds the dead,
Ere midnight's frown and morning's smile, ere thou and peace may meet.
The cloud shadows of midnight possess their
For the weary winds are silent, or the
is in the deep:
Some respite to its turbulence unresting knows ;
Whatever moves, or toils, or grieves, its appointed sleep.
Thou in the grave shalt rest—yet till phantoms flee
Which that house and heath and ga made dear to thee erewhile,
Thy remembrance, and repentance, and musings are not free
From the music of two voices and the of one sweet smile.
My baffled looks did fear yet dread
To meet thy looks - I could not know
How anxiously they sought to shine
With soothing pity upon mine.
To sit and curb the soul's mute rage
To curse the life which is the cage
Of fettered grief that dares not groan,
Hiding from many a careless eye
Whilst thou alone, then not regarded,
thou alone should be,
To spend years thus, and be rewarded,
When none were near- -Oh! I did wake
From torture for that moment's sake.
Upon my heart thy accents sweet
peace and pity fell like dew
On flowers half dead; - thy lips did meet
Mine tremblingly; thy dark eyes threw Their soft persuasion on my brain,
Charming away its dream of pain.
We are not happy, sweet! our state
More need of words that ills abate;
Reserve or censure come not near Our sacred friendship, lest there be No solace left for thee and me.
Gentle and good and mild thou art,