Was their sweetness to waste itself on mine,
For ours in such embrace might ne'er entwine!

They say that thou art proud; I know

Meek thoughts oft o'er thee stealing; I know the silent, generous flow

Of fervent kindly feeling

Thy heart yields - by these and many a token

I know thou 'rt less proud than thine eye hath spoken.

That eye! O, it on mine hath beamed

A living tenderness;

And while amid its light, I deemed

My life all shadowless;

But ah! the dream hath passed - we coldly meet
The worshipped shrine lies broken at thy feet.

Farewell, thou unforgotten! Years,
Long years are yet before us;

Farewell-we part not now with tears,

Though darkened clouds sweep o'er us;
And though we meet no more in after days,
Yet back to brighter hours shall Memory gaze!

SEPT. 1.