TO MISS S—— S——
| Would that thou were some isle, my love, And I the wave that bound thee, With naught but Heaven's pure sky above, And I sole guard around thee. Then in one fond and long embrace, Through calm and storm I'd cheer thee, And bless the wind, that face to face, Had brought me still more near thee. |
Norfolk, April 9, 1835.
For the Southern Literary Messenger.
THE BROKEN HEART.
| I come, a stricken Deer, Bearing the heart midst crowds that bled, To bleed in stillness here.—Mrs. Hemans. |
| I come to my home in the forest shade, By the summer boughs in their minglings made, To my own bright hills and their clear blue sky, With a broken heart in their stillness to die. I come from the midst of a changing world, And the banners of Hope in my bosom lie furled; I bring from the spoiler a mournful token,— The unfledged wing of my soul is broken. There is weight on my spirit too painful to bear— A feeling of gloom that corrodes like despair; And the Rose's rich hue and the Violet's bloom, Whisper we're nursed but to fade at thy tomb. And there comes a sound on the murmuring breeze, As it creeps thro' the boughs of a thousand trees, And it echoes back from the stars of night And the placid lake, like a mirror bright, "Thou art not for earth! thou art not for earth! And thou bearest no part in its gladness and mirth; Its moments of pleasure have ages of care! And the love which thou seekest is never found there!" And Spring shall return with its leaves and flowers, And the song of birds to the woodland bowers; To me they shall be as to one that's departed— There is rest in the grave for the broken hearted. |
S. W. W.