Page:Landon in Literary Gazette 1825.pdf/3

I fly myself, as crowds could steal
    The arrow from my heart;
But there ten thousand things recall
    Scenes in which thou hadst part.
In crowds alone it was we met:
How can they teach me to forget?

Wearied, I turn to solitude;
    But all the dreams are gone,
Which once upon mу quiet hours
    Like fairy pageants shone:
I feel too vividly, to be
Longer amused by phantasy.

I look upon the poet's page,
    My tear-fill'd eye grows dim;
I heard him once their numbers breathe,
    And now they breathe of him.
Less present to mine eye than ear,
His silver voice is all I hear.

Farewell! go join the careless world,
    As gay, as cold, as free;
A passing dream, a moment's thought,
    Is all that I would be.
I wish—but that brief glance allow'd,
We fling upon an evening cloud.

I would not be beloved by thee;
    I know too well the fate
That waits upon the heart, which must
    Its destiny create.
A spirit, passionate as mine,
Lights only to consume its shrine.

I was not born for happiness;
    From my most early hours
My hopes have been too brilliant fires,
    My joys too fragile flow’rs.
An evil star shines over me;
I would not it were felt by thee!

Farewell! Yet wherefore say farewell?
    Mine are no parting words:
I do not wish to wake one tone
    Upon thy memory's chords.
Low, still and deep as mine, can be
Content with its idolatry.L. E. L.