Thy indistinct expressions seem Thy silver locks, once auburn bright, For could I view nor them nor thee, Partakers of thy sad decline, Thy hands their little force resign; Such feebleness of limbs thou prov'st And still to love, though pressed with ill, But ah! by constant heed I know 141 And should my future lot be cast My Mary! William Cowper TO THOMAS MOORE Y boat is on the shore, MY And my bark is on the sea; But before I go, Tom Moore, Here's a sigh to those who love me, And, whatever sky's above me, Though the ocean roar around me, Were't the last drop in the well, Ere my fainting spirit fell, 'Tis to thee that I would drink. With that water, as this wine, The libation I would pour Should be,-Peace with thine and mine, And a health to thee, Tom Moore. Lord Byron 44 Strangers yet! After childhood's winning ways, WE I bade my heart more constant be. And grow a home for only thee; Nor feared but thy love likewise grew, The fault was grave! I might have known, And faith may oft be unreturned. Thou lov'st no more;-Farewell! Farewell! Farewell!-and thou, thou lonely heart, From thy remote and spherèd course To haunt the place where passions reign— Back to thy solitude again! Back! with the conscious thrill of shame Yet she, chaste queen, had never proved But thou hast long had place to prove This truth-to prove, and make thine own: "Thou hast been, shalt be, art, alone." Or, if not quite alone, yet they |