Poems (Denver)/Secret Grief
Of beauty be thine own,
And wreaths of happiness thy crown should be;
So beautiful art thou,
With stately step and brow,
That thou hast chained even misery to thee!
SECRET GRIEF.
What meant that secret sigh,
The sudden agony,
That waked thy bosom from its wonted rest?
I did not think a tone
That grief claims as her own,
Could find a moment's dwelling in thy breast!
The sudden agony,
That waked thy bosom from its wonted rest?
I did not think a tone
That grief claims as her own,
Could find a moment's dwelling in thy breast!
O, who that saw thy glance
And felt the enraptured trance
Which thy proud beauty caused, a charm o'er all,
Could think that from thy heart
One single sigh might start,
Or that the blow of misery there could fall.
And felt the enraptured trance
Which thy proud beauty caused, a charm o'er all,
Could think that from thy heart
One single sigh might start,
Or that the blow of misery there could fall.
O! for an angel's voice
To bid thee to rejoice,
And o'er thy path unclouded radiance see;
And from thy cold, calm eye
And pale brow's witchery,
Bid thy impassioned beauty plead to thee!
To bid thee to rejoice,
And o'er thy path unclouded radiance see;
And from thy cold, calm eye
And pale brow's witchery,
Bid thy impassioned beauty plead to thee!
I'd bid thee wake the theme,
Of thy heart's early dream,
Why has the sparkle of its mirth gone out?
Would make thy spirit's tone,
So hopelessly alone,
Seek kindred in the wild waves' joyous shout.
O! I would bid the throne Of thy heart's early dream,
Why has the sparkle of its mirth gone out?
Would make thy spirit's tone,
So hopelessly alone,
Seek kindred in the wild waves' joyous shout.
Of beauty be thine own,
And wreaths of happiness thy crown should be;
So beautiful art thou,
With stately step and brow,
That thou hast chained even misery to thee!