From sterner man,—when will love be
Enshrined as in her memory!—
Thou wert not false,—I cannot now
Reproach thee with one broken vow;
I may not say thou art estranged,
I rather feel than know thee changed;
Thy heart is now in other things
Than love's once dear imaginings;
The world has claimed thee,—crowds and care
Are things in which love has no share;
You would but smile now to recall
Many sweet vows and gentle fears,
Or marvel they were ever felt,—
Such change is in a lapse of years.
But I have treasured looks and words,
Till memory's links are as soft chords.
O'er which, if but one breath shall fall,
They wake in tones thrice musical.
But thou! thou hast forgotten all.
Oh this is vain, I cannot bring
Again the freshness of our spring.—
On to my tale—it will recall
All that is from my bosom reft,
Bereaved of love's original,
’Tis much to have its picture left.
Amid the groves of Lebanon,
The scented cedar groves, is one,
The very loveliest of all,
So clear, so cool, the fountain fall,
So gracefully the roses grow,
Mirrored in the clear water's flow;
So beautiful athwart the boughs
Comes morning's rise or evening's close;
And when the moon shines forth at night,
Or, in her absence, gleaming light
Darts from the stars upon the vale,
Sings to them the lone nightingale,
As an enchanted harp were breaking
The calm with its delicious waking.
’Tis strange to find in such a place
Aught that resembles human trace;
Yet, underneath a cedar's shade,
Whose boughs, defying sun or rain,
Keep the white marble free from stain,
A tomb is placed; a statue there—
