Felicia Hemans

“ Seek not to quicken—to restore—
Joy is in every pang—I go! I go!
"I feel thy tears, I feel thy breath,
I meet thy fond look still;
Keen is the strife of love and death!
Faint and yet fainter grows my bosom's thrill! ”

“ Laugh, as to grace a conqueror's closing hour!
"For thee, for thee!—my bosom's lord!
Thee, my soul's loved, I die!
Thine is the torch of life restored,
Mine, mine, the rapture!—mine the victory!
"Now may the boundless love, that lay
Unfathomed still before,
In one consuming burst, find way,
In one bright flood, all, all its riches pour!
"Thou know'st, thou know'st what love is now,
Its glory and its might! ”

“ Not lone, when by the haunted stream thou weepest—
That stream whose tone
Murmurs of thoughts, the holiest and the deepest,
We two have known:
Not lone, when mournfully some strain awaking
Of days long past,
From thy soft eyes the sudden tears are breaking,
Silent and fast:
Not lone, when upwards, in fond visions, turning
Thy dreamy glance,
Thou seek'st my home, where solemn stars are burning
O'er night's expanse!
My home is near thee, loved one! and around thee,
Where'er thou art ”