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TO MRS. MARY GIFFIN. 319 |
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0, had he like his sister died, Were he but sleeping by her side, They could have borne it all!
But, dead to virtue, lost in guilt Surely the parents' heart-strings felt
A pang unknown before; Fiercer than that which rends the heart, When those we dearly love depart,
As.life's last hopes are o'er. Strange gloom had o'er that circle spread: No cheerful tone, no gladsome tread—
Even childhood check'd its glee, As if a step too light would start The dagger to the parents' heart,
And wake their misery.
O, fearful change! I may not now Paint the dire thoughts which pain'd my brow,
And burn'd within my breast: I left the threshold—but the scene, The picture I beheld within,
Was on my heart imprest.
1845.
TO MRS. MARY GIFFIN. What theme shall wake the warblings of my lyre ? What muse shall tune it with poetic fire, While I shall sine: for thee ? |
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