S. Yet how much less it were to gain, The all of thine that cannot die Through dark and dread Eternity And more thy buried love endears XVII. STANZAS. 1. If sometimes in the haunts of men, Thine image from my breast may fade, The lonely hour presents again The semblance of thy gentle shade: And now that sad and silent hour Thus much of thee can still restore, And sorrow unobserv'd may pour The plaint she dare not speak before. 2. Oh, pardon that in crowds awhile, Nor deem that memory less dear, I would not fools should overhear One sigh that should be wholly thine. 3. If not the Goblet pass unquaff'd, And could Oblivion set my soul From all her troubled visions free, I'd dash to earth the sweetest bowl That drown'd a single thought of thee. 4. For wert thou vanish'd from my mind, To honour thine abandon'd Urn? 5. For well I know, that such had been A blessing never meant for me; Thou wert too like a dream of heaven, For earthly Love to merit thee. March 14th, 1812. XVIII. On a Cornelian Heart which was broken. 1. ILL-FATED heart! and can it be That thou shouldst thus be rent in twain! Have years of care for thine and thee Alike been all employed in vain ? 2. Yet precious seems each shatter'd part, Since he who wears thee, feels thou art A fitter emblem of his own. XIX. [This poem and the following were written some years ago.] To a Youthful Friend. 1. FEW years have pass'd since thou and I Preserv'd our feelings long the same. 2. But now, like me, too well thou know'st And those who once have lov'd the most Too soon forget they lov'd at all. 3. And such the change the heart displays, |