Page:Poems Sherwin.djvu/67

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63
TO LILLA.
Dear Lilla, I am all alone,
With none to sooth—with none to cheer—
The hopes which once were mine are flown,
And sadly now I linger here.

The voice of gentle love is hushed,
And friendship's smiles are not for me,
My only hope has long been crushed,
And pleasure's face no more I see.

All dark and gloomy is my way,
Yet I rejoice in other's glee,
And feel once more a kindling ray
Of gladness when I think on thee.



THE ERROR.
Our ancient sages strangely erred,
When souls to man alone they gave,
And vaunting impiously averred,
That woman's soul dies in the grave.
A sad mistake all must allow,—
But men to make mistakes are prone,—
For sense and reason prove it now,
Our sex have souls—'tis their's have none.