Literary Gazette, 1st July, 1826, Page 412


ORIGINAL POETRY.

MORALISING.

I cannot count the changes of my heart,
So often has it turned away from things
Once idols of its being:—they depart—
Hopes, fancies, joys, illusions—as if wings
Were given from their former selves to start:
Or if they linger, longer life but brings
Weariness, canker, hollowness. and stain,
Till the heart says of pleasure, it is pain.


    And thus it is with all that made life fair:—
Gone with the freshness which they used to wear,
‘Tis sad to mark the ravage which the heart
Makes of itself,—how one by one depart
The colours that formed hope. We seek—we find—
And find the charm has with the search declined.
Affections—pleasures—all in which we trust,—
What do they end in?—Nothing, or disgust.
****

Think no more of that sweet time,
      When the heart and cheek were young,—
Think no more of that sweet time
      Ere the veil from life was flung.
Still the cheek shows the young rose,
      Which its beauty had of yore;
But the bloom upon the heart
      Is no more.

We have mingled with the false,
      Till belief has lost the charm
Which it had when life was new,
      And the pulse of feeling warm.
We have had the bosom wrung
      When dropt the mask which Friendship wore,—
Affection's trusting happiness
      Is no more.

We have seen the young and gay
      Dying as the aged die;
Miss we not the cheerful voice?—
      Miss we not the sunny eye?
Wishes take the place of Hope;—
      Hope hath dreamed till dreams are o‘er;—
Its freshness made life fresh, and that
      Is no more.

Take away yon purple bowl;—
      What is left to greet it now?—
Loathing lip that turns away,
      Sullen eye, and weary brow;—
Social joys that wont to laugh,—
      Mirth that lit its purple store,—
Friends with whom we poured its wealth.—
      Are no more.L. E. L.