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LEONORA.
LEONORA.
She was the loveliest lady of our line,
But of a cold proud heauty;....
Yet gentle blushes had been on that cheek,
And tenderness within those dark blue eyes.
Sometimes, in twilight and in solitude,
There was a mournful song she used to sing—
But only then.
Farewell! and when the charm of change
Has faded, as all else will fade;
When Joy, a wearied bird, begins
To droop the wing, to seek the shade;—
When thine own heart at length has felt,
What thou hast made another feel—
The hope that sickens to despair,
The wound that time may sear, not heal;—
When thou shalt pine for some fond heart
To beat in answering thine again;—
Then, false one! think once more on me,
And sigh to know it is in vain.
