Thou breathing dial! since thy day began
The present hour was ever mark’d with shade!
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I STROVE with none, for none was worth my strife.
I warm’d both hands before the fire of life;It sinks, and I am ready to depart.
HOW many verses have I thrown
Peculiar word, the wanted most,Was irrecoverably lost!
THE MOTHER of the Muses, we are taught,
And shake my shoulder, urging me to singAbout the summer days, my loves of old.Alas! alas! is all I can reply.Memory has left with me that name alone,Harmonious name, which other bards may sing,But her bright image in my darkest hourComes back, in vain comes back, call’d or uncall’d.Forgotten are the names of visitorsReady to…
MANY love music but for music’s sake;
Thoughts that repose within the breast half dead,And rise to follow where she loves to lead.What various feelings come from days gone by!What tears from far-off sources dim the eye!Few, when light fingers with sweet voices play,And melodies swell, pause, and melt away,Mind how at every touch, at every tone,A spark of life hath glisten’d…
PROUD word you never spoke, but you will speak
Resting on one white hand a warm wet cheek,Over my open volume you will say,“This man loved me!” then rise and trip away.
Nor empty are the honours that we pay
Brimfull with grateful reminiscences;Compassion is excited; the most sternRelent; and better even the best return.Such, Teresita, were my thoughts, all day,All night, when thou wert carried to thy homeEternal, amid tears thou couldst not share,Thither where none, not even of joy, are shed.Surrounded with God’s own serenityIs that pure brow rais’d humbly to his throne.Leaving…