296
FRAGMENTS.
What, oh! what could I read there,
But the depths of Love's despair,—
Blighted feelings, like leaves that fall
The first from April's coronal,—
Hopes like meteors that shine and depart—
An early grave, and a broken heart!
SONG.
Farewell!—and never think of me
In lighted hall or lady's bower!
Farewell!—and never think of me
In spring sunshine or summer hour!—
But when you see a lonely grave,
Just where a broken heart might be,
With not one mourner by its sod,
Then—and then only—think of me!
