91
But beauty is to me a worthless dower.
While darkly rolls mine eye beneath its lid.
While darkly rolls mine eye beneath its lid.
I cannot gaze upon their pleasant faces,
Where the soft light of beauty ever beams,
Yet on my mind their fair forms Fancy traces,
And their deep looks pierce through my nightly dreams;
I feel my mother's soft eye as it flashes
Like a lone star that looks down from the sky,
Trembling so softly 'neath its silky lashes,
Yet, when I wake, 't is with a darkened eye.
Where the soft light of beauty ever beams,
Yet on my mind their fair forms Fancy traces,
And their deep looks pierce through my nightly dreams;
I feel my mother's soft eye as it flashes
Like a lone star that looks down from the sky,
Trembling so softly 'neath its silky lashes,
Yet, when I wake, 't is with a darkened eye.
Ah! little know they of the dreamy sadness
That shadows o'er my spirit's viewless urn,
For they can look out on the free world's gladness,
Where blossoms blow, and stars shoot out and burn,
While I must sit, a fair yet darkened flower,
Amid the bright band gathered round our hearth,
The only sad thing in our sweet home bower—
O! for one glance upon the fresh green earth!
That shadows o'er my spirit's viewless urn,
For they can look out on the free world's gladness,
Where blossoms blow, and stars shoot out and burn,
While I must sit, a fair yet darkened flower,
Amid the bright band gathered round our hearth,
The only sad thing in our sweet home bower—
O! for one glance upon the fresh green earth!
