TO MARY
by: Charles Wolfe (1791-1823)
- F I had thought thou couldst have
died,
- I might not weep for thee;
- But I forgot, when by thy side,
- That thou couldst mortal be:
- It never through my mind had past
- The time would e'er be o'er,
- And I on thee should look my last,
- And thou shouldst smile no more!
-
- And still upon that face I look,
- And think 'twill smile again;
- And still the thought I will not brook,
- That I must look in vain.
- But when I speak--thou dost not say
- What thou ne'er left'st unsaid;
- And now I feel, as well I may,
- Sweet Mary, thou art dead!
-
- If thou wouldst stay, e'en as thou art,
- All cold and all serene--
- I still might press thy silent heart,
- And where they smiles have been.
- While e'en thy chill, bleak corse I have,
- Thou seemest still mine own;
- But there--I lay thee on thy grave,
- And I am now alone!
-
- I do not think, where'er thou art,
- Thou hast forgotten me;
- And I, perhaps, may soothe this heart
- In thinking too of thee:
- Yet there was round thee such a dawn
- Of light ne'er seen before,
- As fancy never could have drawn,
- And never can restore!
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