Page:Felicia Hemans in The New Monthly Magazine Volume 20 1827.pdf/13

Perchance all vainly lavish'd
    Its other love had been,
And where it trusted, nought remain'd
    But thorns whereon to lean!

Far better then to perish,
    Thy form within its clasp,
Than live and lose thee, precious one!
    From that impassion'd grasp!

Oh! I could pass all relics
    Left by the pomps of old,
To gaze on this rude monument,
    Cast in Affection's mould!

Love, human Love! what art thou?
    —Thy print upon the dust
Outlives the cities of renown,
    Wherein the mighty trust!

Immortal, oh! immortal
    Thou art, whose earthly glow
Hath given these ashes holiness—
    It must, it must be so!F. H.

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