Page:Summer on the lakes, in 1843.djvu/111

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MARIANA.
101
 They heart to heart have never pressed,
Nor hands in holy pledge have given,
 By father's love were ne'er caressed,
Nor in a mother's eye saw heaven.
 
 A flowerless and fruitless tree,
A dried up stream, a mateless bird,
 They live, yet never living be,
They die, their music all unheard.
 
 I wish I were where Helen lies,
For there I could not be alone;
 But now, when this dull body dies,
The spirit still will make its moan.
 
 Love passed me by, nor touched my brow;
Life would not yield one perfect boon;
 And all too late it calls me now,
O all too late, and all too soon.
 
 If thou couldst the dark riddle read
Which leaves this dart within my breast,
 Then might I think thou lov'st indeed,
Then were the whole to thee confest.
 
 Father, they will not take me home,
To the poor child no heart is free;
 In sleet and snow all night I roam;
Father, — was this decreed by thee?
 
 I will not try another door,
To seek what I have never found;
 Now, till the very last is o'er,
Upon the earth I'll wander round.