And, like a tyrant, force the loved to part!
Breaking the dream which comes but once to bless
Existence with a ray of happiness—
That golden vision which, in mercy given,
Seems as 'twere brought by seraphim from heaven.
And when 'tis gone, we wish that life were o'er
To dream in heaven that dream for evermore.
Alas! that warm celestial Love should know
The blights of earth, the agonies of woe—
The killing poison creeping through each vein,
The feelings crushed, and the bewildered brain,
The scorpion stinging every hope to death,
And life bereft of all but tears and breath.
'Tis well these pangs it never twice can feel,
For hearts impassioned, wounded, never heal;
Like broken pearls, no power of mortal art
Can mend the gems or join the riven heart!
When to some spirit we have linked our lot,
One who, through life, can never be forgot,
One, whom with fond affection we have placed
To light and warm the bosom's dismal waste—
O! if that spirit from the breast be torn
Where like a precious jewel it was worn,
What, when 'tis gone, may memory hope to find
A blank—a void—a dreariness of mind!—
It is as if upon a gloomy night
When one soft star alone is twinkling bright,
An angry, lowering cloud of blackest hue
Should gather o'er, and quench, that lingerer too.