4532878Poems — ThoughtsEliza Gabriella Lewis

My bosom once rejoiced to treasure,
Hopes of many a joyous measure,
Ah! poor bosom, thou hast known,
What it was to find joy flown.

Once my heart beat proudly, brightly,
Beamed my eyes, more clearly, brightly
Ah! poor heart thy peace is o'er,
Beams the sadden'd eye no more.

Life was once a bed of flowers,
Joy reposed in sunny bowers;
Life—thy buds were but a snare.
Thorns were hidden every where.

Heaven! I thought not of thy joys!
Pleas'd with this world's shining toys;
Now—but thee alone I prize,
Raise a suppliant to the skies.