Literary Gazette, 22nd January, 1825, Page 59
ORIGINAL POETRY.
VALEDICTORY STANZAS.
Thy voice is yet upon mine ear,
I cannot lose the tone,
Altho' I know what vanity
Has made my heart its own;
For well I know I cannot be
All thou hast made thyself to me.
I flung me on my couch, to sleep,
But there no slumber came:
I caught a sound, then blush'd to think
l nam’d aloud thy name:
How could I let one breath of air
The secret of my heart declare!
That is the only blush, whose red
Has lit my cheek for thee;
And even that blush had not burnt,
Had there been one to see.
Oh, never might my spirit brook
Another on its depths to look!
I hear thee nam'd by those who keep
Thy image in their heart;
I envy them, that they may say
How very dear thou art.
And yet, methinks, Love may not be
Kept better than in secresy.
I blush not when I hear thy name;
I sigh not for thy sake;
And tho' my heart may break, yet still
It shall in silence break.
I have, at least, enough of pride,
If not to heal, mу wound to hide.
'Т is strange, how in things most remote
Love will some likeness find;
It is as an electric chain
Were flung upon the mind—
Making each pulse in unison,
Till they but thrill and throb as one.
