Etheline

The heart that once was rich with light,     And happy in your grace,     Now lieth cold beneath the scorn     That gathers on your face;     And every joy it knew before,     And every templed dream,     Is paler than the dying flash     On yonder mountain stream.     The soul, regretting foundered bliss     Amid the wreck of years,     Hath mourned it with intensity     Too deep for human tears!     The forest fadeth underneath     The blast that rushes by     The dripping leaves are white with death,     But Love will never die!     We both have seen the starry moss     That clings where Ruin reigns,     And one must know his lonely breast     Affection still retains;     Through all the sweetest hopes of life,     That clustered round and round,     Are lying now, like withered things,     Forsaken on the ground.     Tis hard to think of what we were,     And what we might have been,     Had not an evil spirit crept     Across the tranquil scene:     Had fervent feelings in your soul     Not failed nor ceased to shine     As pure as those existing on,     And burning still in mine.     Had every treasure at your feet     That I was wont to pour,     Been never thrown like worthless weeds     Upon a barren shore!     The bitter edge of grief has passed,     I would not now upbraid;     Or count to you the broken vows,     So often idly made!     I would not cross your path to chase     The falsehood from your brow     I know, with all that borrowed light,     You are not happy now:     Since those that once have trampled down     Affections early claim,     Have lost a peace they need not hope     To find on earth again.