Ah, lady, thou wilt never more
Thy gallant lover see;
His eye of melting tenderness
Will never rest on thee.
Death saw that gentle maiden there,
By dreams of love beguiled;
He gazed upon her winning charms,
As hideously he smiled.
Full many a bright and lovely form,
Beneath his touch had died;
But she, the loveliest of them all,
He thought to make his bride.
With noiseless step and watchful eye
He stole into her bower;
She felt his chill and icy breath,
And withered in an hour.
The soft light faded from her eye,
And pallid grew her face,
As folded in Death's icy arms,
She felt his cold embrace.
Her breath came heavily and slow,
Vainly she tried to speak;
The life blood froze around her heart,
And curdled in her cheek.
And when her maidens sought her there
At the accustomed hour,
They found her cold and motionless,
Within that leafy bower.
To A----.
When the spring tide of thy life shall have passed away, with all its
joyous anticipations and budding hopes--when Summer with the music of
its birds and the perfume of its flowers, and melancholy Autumn, with
its faded leaf and sighing winds, shall have chased each other down
the tide of time, and the cold blasts of Winter have begun to chill
the life-blood in thy veins--when the hand that penned these lines
shall be mouldering in dust, and the friends of thy youth who
journeyed with thee along the pathway of life, and who cheered thee
with the music of their voices and the light of their smiles have,
perchance, one by one passed away, and left thee to journey on in
loneliness of heart, when the light of thine own eye shall have become
dimmed, and thy sunny hair whitened by the frosts of age--when thy
voice, which was wont to gush forth in melody and song, entrancing
the ear and cheering the heart of the listener, has become weak and
tremulous, and care and sorrow have set their seal upon thy brow.
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