Songs of the Affections, with Other Poems/Second Sight

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For works with similar titles, see Second Sight.
For other versions of this work, see Second Sight (Felicia Hemans).


Ne'er err'd the prophet heart that grief inspired,
Though joy's illusions mock their votarist.

A mournful gift is mine, O friends!
    A mournful gift is mine!
A murmur of the soul which blends
    With the flow of song and wine.

An eye that through the triumph's hour,
    Beholds the coming woe,
And dwells upon the faded flower
    'Midst the rich summer's glow.

Ye smile to view fair faces bloom
    Where the father's board is spread;
I see the stillness and the gloom
    Of a home whence all are fled.

I see the wither'd garlands lie
    Forsaken on the earth,
While the lamps yet burn, and the dancers fly
    Through the ringing hall of mirth.

I see the blood-red future stain
    On the warrior's gorgeous crest;
And the bier amidst the bridal train
    When they come with roses drest.

I hear the still small moan of Time,
    Through the ivy branches made,
Where the palace, in its glory's prime,
    With the sunshine stands array'd.

The thunder of the seas I hear,
    The shriek along the wave,
When the bark sweeps forth, and song and cheer
    Salute the parting brave.

With every breeze a spirit sends
    To me some warning sign:—
A mournful gift is mine, O friends!
    A mournful gift is mine!

Oh! prophet heart! thy grief, thy power,
    To all deep souls belong;
The shadow in the sunny hour,
    The wail in the mirthful song.

Their sight is all too sadly clear—
    For them a veil is riven:
Their piercing thoughts repose not here,
    Their home is but in Heaven.