SONG.
"Lady, sweet Lady, song of mine
Was never meant for thee,
I sing but from my heart, and thine—
It cannot beat with me.
"You have not knelt in vain despair,
Beneath a love as vain,
That desperate—that devoted love,
Life never knows again.
"What know you of a weary hope,
The fatal and the fond,
That feels it has no home on earth,
Yet dares not look beyond?
"The bitterness of wasted youth,
Impatient of its tears;
The dreary days, the feverish nights,
The long account of years.
"The vain regret, the dream destroy'd,
The vacancy of heart,
When life's illusions, one by one,
First darken—then depart.
"The vacant heart! ah, worse,—a shrine
For one beloved name:
Kept, not a blessing, but a curse,
Amid remorse and shame.
"To know how deep, how pure, how true
Your early feelings were;
But mock’d, betray’d, disdain’d, and chang’d,
They have but left despair.
"And yet the happy and the young
Bear in their hearts a well
Of gentlest, kindliest sympathy,
Where tears unbidden dwell.
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