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Then the mortal coldness of the soul like death itself comes
It cannot feel for others' woes, it dare not dream its own; That heavy chill has frozen o'er the fountain of our tears, And though the eye may sparkle still, 'tis where the ice
Though wit may flash from fluent lips, and mirth distract the breast,
Through midnight hours that yield no more their former hope of rest;
'Tis but as ivy-leaves around the ruin'd turret wreath, All green and wildly fresh without, but worn and gray
Oh could I feel as I have felt,
-or be what I have been, Or weep as I could once have wept, o'er many a vanish'd
As springs in deserts found seem sweet, all brackish though
So midst the wither'd waste of life, those tears would flow
STANZAS FOR MUSIC.
THERE be none of Beauty's daughters
With a magic like thee;
And like music on the waters
Is thy sweet voice to me: When, as if its sound were causing The charmed ocean's pausing, The waves lie still and gleaming, And the lull'd winds seem dreaming,
And the midnight moon is weaving
Like the swell of Summer's ocean.
FARE THEE WELL.
"Alas! they had been friends in Youth;
"But never either found another
"But neither heat, nor frost, nor thunder
"The marks of that which once hath been."
FARE thee well! and if for ever,
Still for ever, fare thee well:
Even though unforgiving, never
'Gainst thee shall my heart rebel.
Though the world for this commend thee-
Founded on another's woe
Though my many faults defaced me,
Still must mine, though bleeding, beat; And the undying thought which paineth Is-that we no more may meet.
These are words of deeper sorrow
Than the wail above the dead;
When our child's first accents flow,
Though his care she must forego? When her little hands shall press thee,
When her lip to thine is prest,
Think of him whose prayer shall bless thee, Think of him thy love had bless'd!
Should her lineaments resemble
Those thou never more may'st see,
Then thy heart will softly tremble
Every feeling hath been shaken;
Even my soul forsakes me now :
Words from me are vainer still; But the thoughts we cannot bridle Force their way without the will.Fare thee well!-thus disunited,
Torn from every nearer tie,
Sear'd in heart, and lone, and blightedMore than this I scarce can die.