STANZAS.
4
Literary Gazette, 5th February, 1825, Page 92
To coldness, misery, and pain,
All the worn heart endures in vain,
And yet too gentle to complain;
Left, 'mid the cold and proud—behind—
Friends even more than fate unkind ;
And then, thy solitude of death,
No lip to catch thy parting breath,
No clasp, fond as that it would press
Life to stay for love's last caress;
And then, the years of toil and care
Thy gentleness had had to bear;
All, all the faithlessness and wrong
That have pursu'd my path so long;
Desolate, as I feel alone,
How can I weep that thou art gone?
L. E. L.
