78
THOU LOVEST ME NO MORE.
No gleam of tore-light beaming in these eyes
Of midnight fire—nay even here is change.
I send thee back thy vain and worthless gifts—
Ah, proud one, would that I could give thee back
Thy bosom's truth.
Of midnight fire—nay even here is change.
I send thee back thy vain and worthless gifts—
Ah, proud one, would that I could give thee back
Thy bosom's truth.
I said I would not weep
Again, but drops of mingled tears and blood,
From the recesses of a breaking heart
Are gushing, and the shower has brought relief;
For oh! I feel that now the awful gloom
Which filled my bosom with its cloudy weight,
Is broken and dispersed. Within its deep
Dark mists the genius of the tempest stood
Like a dread night-mare of the soul, and held
My spirit's elements in thrall. but now
The loosened zephyrs wander as they list,
The deep, strong spell that bound them is dissolved,
And lo! the twilight soft comes stealing on
With its one star, the star of memory,
Pale, pale, but very beautiful.
Again, but drops of mingled tears and blood,
From the recesses of a breaking heart
Are gushing, and the shower has brought relief;
For oh! I feel that now the awful gloom
Which filled my bosom with its cloudy weight,
Is broken and dispersed. Within its deep
Dark mists the genius of the tempest stood
Like a dread night-mare of the soul, and held
My spirit's elements in thrall. but now
The loosened zephyrs wander as they list,
The deep, strong spell that bound them is dissolved,
And lo! the twilight soft comes stealing on
With its one star, the star of memory,
Pale, pale, but very beautiful.
