FRAGMENTS - FlFTH SERIES.
23
Literary Gazette, 18th June, 1825, Page 396
My heart is as a grave,
Where Hope and Love lie sleeping;
With its dark thoughts like cypress,
Watching and weeping.
Yet, flowers are on that grave,
Albeit sad they be;
And hidden treasures in it.
Sweet memories of thee.
My heart is as a gem,
Sullied and broken,
But bearing signs that make it still
A precious token.
Thy image has been there;
Nothing can quite efface
The beauty of the spot
Which has been thy resting place:
As that garden of the East,
In itself no longer fair,
Has yet perfume on its beds,
For the rose has once bloomed there.
