Page:Landon in Literary Gazette 1825.pdf/41

A sad remembrance of sweet thoughts,
    Shedding their softness over pain.
But may I hope to feel like this,
    To dare to think of thee again?

How I have loved thee, I have taught
    My lute, my spirit's passionate words;
But to have breathed one half my love,
    The passion would have burst its chords.

I would have rather been a slave
    In fettered bondage by thy side,
Than shared in all the world could give,
    Had it not given thee beside.

I treasured up thy lightest word,
    Dwelt upon all that breathed of thee—
Caught thy least sigh—caught thy least look,
    Why did I think it turn'd on me?

My lute had often breathed of love,
    But never thought of love as mine;
Love's pulse lay sleeping in my heart—
    To wake it into life was thine!

And then I almost feared my fame,
    Lest thou mightst think my heart was there:—
Ah, to be nothing, save to thee,
    Was all that heart's, fond woman's, prayer.

And then I dreamed I was beloved,
    And there was heaven in the dream;
That such a dream could pass away!
    That such a heaven could only seem!

I saw thee change, yet would not see;
    Knew all, what yet I would not know;
My foolish heart seemed as it feared,
    To own thee false, would make thee so.