83
Yes! still for them all Nature breathes,
With beauty's deep though chastened spell;
And, still unbidden, Fancy wreathes
The fairy flowers once loved so well:
The dashing waves, the bending trees,
Still sound like voices loved and gone;
Still music floats on every breeze,
Though now it bears a mournful tone.
With beauty's deep though chastened spell;
And, still unbidden, Fancy wreathes
The fairy flowers once loved so well:
The dashing waves, the bending trees,
Still sound like voices loved and gone;
Still music floats on every breeze,
Though now it bears a mournful tone.
Oh! say not then, that passing years
Must warp each feeling kind and true,
And dry that fount of blesséd tears,
Which fall like Summer's freshening dew;
No! be it mine, through joy and woe,
Living to love—beloved to die!—
No frozen heart to all below,
E'er glowed with warmth for things on high.
Must warp each feeling kind and true,
And dry that fount of blesséd tears,
Which fall like Summer's freshening dew;
No! be it mine, through joy and woe,
Living to love—beloved to die!—
No frozen heart to all below,
E'er glowed with warmth for things on high.
E.
May 21, 1836.
