ELEGIAC STANZAS.
Thy faithful lover stands beside thy melancholy tomb!
The tomb which shrouds thee from mine eyes in its unhallowed gloom.
Awake! arise!—my open arms would tear thee from thy pall―
Mingle thy heart with mine! O hear my anguish-moving call!
The fates—the frightful fates—which closed the grave upon thee there,
Dissolved my heart, my hope, in mists which melted in the air.
Death! why wert thou so cruel? Why, with faithfulness like ours,
Why didst thou blast mirth's opening bud, that soon would bloom in flowers?
Why trample on those morning gems which in such meekness grew,
And just in morning's twilight smiled, and drank love's early dew?
Was it a triumph fit for thee a lowly stem to crush—
To break a feeble twig—to mow a bruised and broken rush?
I speak—she hears not—no reply—no echo can intrude,
No sound may vibrate from the grave, or break its solitude.
