CONSOLATIONS OF SOLITUDE.
��DEDICATION.
Tell me, thou cold and senseless clay, — If speech can rend those realms of night
Where Fate, that snatched thy breath away, Hides thee so darkly from my sight, —
Where has the cheerful spirit fled
Which made that mouldering form so dear ? Is it even like thine ashes dead ?
Lends it to love no listening ear?
Yet, since those moveless lips decline To answer from the earth's cold womb.
Speak, soul, thyself, and give some sign Shall pierce the mists that veil the tomb —
Some whisper through the gloom profound !
Say, dost thou value friendship yet ? Or, when thy temple fell to ground,
Didst thou all love with life forget ?
'Tis vain ; no sound, no symbol speaks From those dull shades at mortal bid ;
Well, then, till time the silence breaks, Still keep thy secret, wiselier hid.
If, purified from earthly stain,
Thou hast no care for mortal lot, —
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