With anxious fears would overflow;
Which wept, which pray’d for me, and sought
From future ills to guard—But now!—
That eye is closed, and deaf that ear,
That lip and voice are mute for ever;
And cold that heart of anxious love,
Which Death alone from mine could sever:
And lost to me that ardent mind,
Which loved my various tasks to see;
And oh! of all the praise I gain’d