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THE BEREAVED ONE.
In loving thee, I need not fear
To meet a haughty rival's frown:
There 's hut the grave my rival here,
Or heaven, which claims thee for its own.
To meet a haughty rival's frown:
There 's hut the grave my rival here,
Or heaven, which claims thee for its own.
In loving thee, I need not dread
Unkindness, change, or perfidy;
The love whose hopes are from the dead
Shall, like themselves, immortal he.
Unkindness, change, or perfidy;
The love whose hopes are from the dead
Shall, like themselves, immortal he.
It is more sweet to me by far
To sit and think upon thy tomb,
Than any living pleasures are,
In all then- bright and breathing bloom.
To sit and think upon thy tomb,
Than any living pleasures are,
In all then- bright and breathing bloom.
And dearer are the silent sighs
I breathe to thy young virtue's shrine;
More blest the tears that dim my eyes,
Than all the joys that once were mine.
I breathe to thy young virtue's shrine;
More blest the tears that dim my eyes,
Than all the joys that once were mine.
