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486 Ideal Likenesses.
Itself has broken. no that it could be
Less desolate, although no longer free.
She loved! again her ardent soul was buOy’d
On Hope's bright wings, above life’s dreary void '
Again its fond tllotions were received,
Centred in one the dearest yet believed 5
It ended aaillusions ever must,
The shining temple prostrate dust to dust.
Look on that brow, ts it not stamp'd with ride?
How might it brook the grief it could not idel
Look on that lip, it has a sad sweet smile.
How ma it brook to feel alone the while!
Uverhealwas the storm, beneath the tea,
And Love and Genius found their destiny—
Despair and Death.
