108
Poems.
A smile soon played upon thy brow,
The sunshine of the heart;
But still a trace of grief was there,
It did not all depart.
The sunshine of the heart;
But still a trace of grief was there,
It did not all depart.
Thus tears and sighs with smiles unite,
To breathe the soul's revealing;
Those trio sisters, feeling's band,
Know not the art—concealing.
To breathe the soul's revealing;
Those trio sisters, feeling's band,
Know not the art—concealing.
STANZAS.
There are thoughts we never breathe,
Hopes we dare not e'er express;
Hidden in the mental shrine,
Nurtured there, we closely press;
Hold them to our trembling heart,
Fearing yet to think them true,
Lest we feel the painful dart,
Adverse fortune's fingers threw.
Hopes we dare not e'er express;
Hidden in the mental shrine,
Nurtured there, we closely press;
Hold them to our trembling heart,
Fearing yet to think them true,
Lest we feel the painful dart,
Adverse fortune's fingers threw.
Cherishing the phantom Hope,
Knowing that she doth deceive;
Yet we cling more closer still,
All she promises, believe.
Knowing that she doth deceive;
Yet we cling more closer still,
All she promises, believe.
