Page:Literary Souvenir 1826.pdf/11

I marked the haughty spirit's strife
    To rend its bonds in vain:
Again I asked the cause of ill,
    And heard Love's name again.

Yet on I went: I thought that Love
    To woman's gentle heart,
Perhaps, had flung a lighter shaft,
    Had given a fairer part.

I looked upon a lovely face,
    Lit by a large dark eye;
But on the lash there was a tear,
    And on the lip a sigh.

I asked not why that form had drooped,
    Nor why that cheek was pale:
I heard the maiden's twilight song,
    It told me all her tale.

I saw an urn, and round it hung
    An April diadem
Of flowers, telling they mourned one
    Faded and fair like them.

I turned to tales of other days,
    They spoke of breath and bloom;
And proud hearts that were bowed by Love
    Into an early tomb.