Page:Poems Nealds.djvu/70

44

And months and years may faster roll,
 And still no change be found:

For on my breast and on my brain
 The fatal seal is set;
Which tells me love for thee is vain,
 Yet bids me not forget.

Fen in the awful hour of death
 My thoughts on thee will dwell,
And with my last faint trembling breath
 I'll sigh belov'd—farewell!