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And when that heart shall cease to beat, And when that breath at length is free, Then, Rosa, soul to soul we'll meet,
And mingle to eternity!
THE wreath you wove, the wreath you wove Is fair- but oh, how fair,
If Pity's hand had stol'n from Love
One leaf to mingle there!
If every rose with gold were tied,
Did gems for dewdrops fall,
One faded leaf where Love had sigh'd
The wreath you wove, the wreath you wove
Its bloom is yours, but hopeless Love
THE SALE OF LOVES.
I DREAMT that, in the Paphian groves, My nets by moonlight laying,
I caught a flight of wanton Loves,
Were never yet strung together.
Ye dames and rose-lipp'd misses!
They're new and bright,
For the coin of this isle is kisses.
The learned Prue took a pert young thing,
Her only eye, if you'd ask it;
But one was left, when Susan came,
'Twould make you smile to've seen us
Sweet child of bliss,
And then nurse the boy between us.
THE world had just begun to steal
I felt not, as I us'd to feel,
And life grew dark and love was gone.
No eye to mingle sorrow's tear,
No lip to mingle pleasure's breath, No circling arms to draw me near 'Twas gloomy, and I wish'd for death.
But when I saw that gentle eye,
Oh! something seem'd to tell me then, That I was yet too young to die, And hope and bliss might bloom again.
With every gentle smile that crost
Your kindling cheek, you lighted home Some feeling, which my heart had lost, And peace, which far had learn'd to roam.
'Twas then indeed so sweet to live,
Hope look'd so new and Love so kind, That, though I mourn, I yet forgive
The ruin they have left behind.
DEATH OF A LADY.
SWEET spirit! if thy airy sleep
Nor sees my tears nor hears my sighs, Then will I weep, in anguish weep,
Till the last heart's drop fills mine eyes. But if thy sainted soul can feel,
And mingles in our misery;
Thou shalt not hear one sigh from me. The beam of morn was on the stream, But sullen clouds the day deform: Like thee was that young, orient beam, Like death, alas, that sullen storm!
Thou wert not form'd for living here,
So link'd thy soul was with the sky;
Yet, ah, we held thee all so dear,
We thought thou wert not form'd to die.