THE TOMB OF ROMEO AND JULIET.
Ay, moralize on Love, and deem
Its life but as an April gleam,—
A thing of sunshine and of showers,
Of dying leaves and falling flowers.
Who would not bear the darkest sphere
That such a rainbow comes to cheer?
Ay, turn and wail above the tomb
Where sleep the wreck of youth and bloom;
And deem it quite enough to say,—
Thus Beauty and thus Love decay.
But I must look upon this spot
With feelings thy cold heart has not;
Those gentle thoughts that consecrate,
Even while they weep, the lover's fate.
I thought upon the star-lit hour,
When leant the maid 'mid leaf and flower,
And blushed and smiled the tale to hear,
Poured from her dark-eyed cavalier;
And yet, I too must moralize,
Albeit with gentler sympathies,
