Poetical Fragments from Ethel Churchill Volume III/Cureless Wounds
CHAPTER XI.
CONVERSATION AFTER BREAKFAST.
False look, false hope, and falsest love,
All meteors sent to me,
To shew how they the heart could move,
And how deceiving be:
They left me darkened, crushed, alone;
My spirit's household gods o'erthrown.
The world itself is changed, and all
That was beloved before
Is vanished, and beyond recall,
For I can hope no more:
The sear of fire, the dint of steel,
Are easier than such wounds to heal.
Blanchard’s title is:
CURELESS WOUNDS
From The Last Song in The Troubadour, title poem
In the Bouquet (1846), under (Lupine) Lupinus hirsutus as Dejection, Sorrow