The New Monthly Magazine, Volume 40, Page 303-304
THE FUTURE.
BY L. E. L.
Ask me not, love, what can be in my heart;
When gazing on thee, sudden tear-drops start,
When only smiles should brighten where thou art.
The human heart is compassed by fears;
And joy is tremulous—for it inspheres
A vapoury star, which melts away in tears.
I am too happy for a careless mirth;
Hence thoughts the sweet, yet sorrowful, have birth:—
Who looks from heaven is half returned to earth.
I feel the weakness of my love—its care—
How deep, how true, how passionate soe'er,
It cannot keep one sorrow from thy share.
How powerless is my fond anxiety!
I feel I could lay down my life for thee;
Yet know how vain such sacrifice must be!
Ah, the sweet present!—should it not suffice?
Not to humanity, which vainly tries
To lift the curtain that may never rise!
