Poetical Fragments from Ethel Churchill Volume III/Too Late
For works with similar titles, see Too Late.
TOO LATE
CHAPTER XXIV.
A SCENE AT THE MASQUERADE.
I do not say, bequeath unto my soul
Thy memory, I rather ask forgetting;
Withdraw, I pray, from me thy strong control;
Though, that withdrawn, what has life worth regretting?
Alas! this is a miserable earth!
Too late, or else too soon, the heart-beat quickens:
Hope finds too late its light was nothing worth,
And round a dark and final vapour thickens.
MEMORY (EXTRACT)
From Three Extracts from the Diary of a Week – Memory in The New Monthly Magazine, 1837 (Vol 49)
As this poem is already in Blanchard’s Life and Literary Remains, he omits this separate extract