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LYRICAL PIECES. 255 And thou, who once could'st love, but now Art dead--ah, worse than dead to me ! One hour shall from thy thoughts efface That I have been, or ceased to be. These eyes meet thine, but read no more The answer, they were wont to give, And time' has shewn them skil!'d to wound, . � As once too practised to deceive. Ah, if my death could wring one tear From that chang? heart and alter'd eye, How gladly could ITay me down, And die, and think it bliss to die ! But no ! Love's once-extinguish'd fires Can ne'er their former warm? regain; As embers mouldering into dus?, Can never--never burn again. ......... ?Google
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