METHOUGHT the icy hand of Time had chilled The gushing fount of passion in my breast -- Methought that Reason's power, for aye, had stilled The bitter struggles of my heart's unrest. Cold, calm, and self-possessing, I had deemed In quiet now to view life slip away -- Forgetting much that once my soul had dreamed, And lengthening out in peace my little day. Safe in indifference, I had vainly hoped To scorn the sympathy I might not share, And little thought mine own hand would have oped My bosom's portal to returning care. How burns the blush of shame upon my cheek -- How bends to earth in grief my haughty brow, When thus I find myself disarmed and weak Before the ideal shapes that haunt me now! Oh God! how long, misled by erring thought, Shall I grope darkly on in feeling's maze? When shall I be by Time's sad lessons taught, And reach my home of rest by quiet ways? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON THE MORNING OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY: THE HYMN by JOHN MILTON O, BREATHE NOT HIS NAME! by THOMAS MOORE BALLADE OF MID-WINTER NIGHTS by CHARLOTTE LOUISE BERTLESEN OUR LADY OF CHANGE by BERTON BRALEY HAPPINESS by EARL ALONZO BRININSTOOL APPRECIATION by LIDA WILLIAMS BROCKER |