126
Literary Gazette 8th November 1823, Page 719
STANZAS.
We shall not meet again, love,
As we once met;
But our meetings have left
What I may not forget:
A thought of the past,
Like a ghost by a tomb,
A heart that is burning,
A cheek without bloom.
As those who have dwelt
In the lands of the Sun,
In the north fade and fall
When the Winter 's begun;
So my spirit, whose life
Was Love's passionate ray,
Must pine unto death
When its warmth fades away!—L. E. L.
