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XII.

To Thyrza.

WITHOUT a stone to mark the spot,

And say, what Truth might well have said,
By all, save one, perchance forgot,

Ah, wherefore art thou lowly laid ?
By many a shore and many a sea

Divided, yet belov'd in vain;
The past, the future fled to thee

To bid us meet-no-ne'er again!
Could this have been a word--a look

That softly said, “ We part in peace,”
Had taught my bosom how to brook,

With fainter sighs, thy soul's release.
And didst thou not-since Death for thee

Prepar'd a light and pangless dart-
Once long for him thou ne'er shalt see,

Who held, and holds thee in his heart?

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Oh! who like him had watch'd thee here?

Or sadly mark'd thy glazing eye, In that dread hour ere death appear,

When silent Sorrow fears to-sigh, Till all was past? But when no more

'Twas thine to reck of human woe, Affection's heart-drops, gushing o'er,

Had flow'd as fast- -as now they flow. Shall they not flow, when many a day

In these, to me, deserted towers, Ere call'd but for a time away,

Affection's mingling tears were ours? Ours too the glance none saw beside;

The smile none else might understand ; The whisper'd thought of hearts allied,

The pressure of the thrilling hand; The kiss so guiltless and refin'd

That Love each warmer wish forbore Those eyes proclaim'd so pure a mind,

Ev'n passion blush'd to plead for more

The tone, that taught me to rejoice,
When
prone,

unlike thee, to repine;
The
song,

celestial from thy voice,
But sweet to me from none but thine ;
The pledge we wore-I wear it still,

But where is thine?-ah, where art thou?
Oft have I borne the weight of ill,

But never bent beneath till now!
Well hast thou left in life's best bloom

The cup of woe for me to drain ;
If rest alone be in the tomb,

I would not wish thee here again :
But if in worlds more blest than this

Thy virtues seek a fitter sphere,
Impart some portion of thy bliss

To wean me from mine anguish here.
Teach ine—too early taught by thee!

To bear, forgiving and forgiv'n :
On earth thy love was such to me;

It fain would form my hope in heav'n!

XIII.

STANZAS.

1.

Away, away, ye notes of woe!

Be silent thou once soothing strain, Or I must flee from hence, for, oh!

I dare not trust those sounds again. To me they speak of brighter days:

But lull the chords, for now, alas! I must not think, I may not gaze

On what I am, on what I was.

2.

The voice that made those sounds more sweet

Is hush'd, and all their charms are fled; And now their softest notes repeat

A dirge, an anthem o'er the dead!

Yes, Thyrza! yes, they breathe of thee,

Beloved dust! since dust thou art; And all that once was harmony

Is worse than discord to my heart!

3.

"Tis silent all !-but on my ear

The well-remember'd echoes thrill; I hear a voice I would not hear,

A voice that now might well be still. Yet oft my doubting soul 'twill shake: • Ev'n slumber owns its gentle tone, Till consciousness will vainly wake

To listen, though the dream be flown.

4.

Sweet Thyrza! waking as in sleep,

Thou art but now a lovely dream ; A star that trembled o'er the deep,

Then turn'd from earth its tender beam.

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