Poems by George Pope Morris Part 11

Are all her promises broken?

And must I love on till I die?

Thinks my dear love that I blame her With what was a burden to part?

Ah, no!--with affection I'll name her While lingers a pulse in my heart.

Although she has clouded with sadness, And blighted the bloom of my years, I lover still, even to madness, And bless her through showers of tears.

My pen I have laid down in sorrow, The songs of my lute I forego: From neither a.s.sistance I'll borrow To utter my heart-seated wo!

But peace to her bosom, wherever Her thoughts or her footsteps may stray: Memento of mine again never Will shadow the light of her way!

Fare The Well, Love.

Fare thee well, love!--We must sever!

Nor for years, love; but for ever!

We must meet no more--or only Meet as strangers--sad and lonely.

Fare thee well!

Fare thee well, love!--How I languish For the cause of all my anguis.h.!.+

None have ever met and parted So forlorn and broken-hearted.

Fare thee well!

Fare thee well, love--Till I perish All my truth for thee I'll cherish; And, when thou my requiem hearest, Know till death I loved thee, dearest.

Fare thee well!

Thou Hast Woven the Spell.

Thou hast woven the spell that hath bound me, Through all the sad changes of years; And the smiles that I wore when I found thee, Have faded and melted in tears!

Like the poor, wounded fawn from the mountain, That seeks out the clear silver tide, I have lingered in vain at the fountain Of hope--with a shaft in my side!

Thou hast taught me that Love's rosy fetters A pang from the thorns may impart; That the coinage of vows and of letters Comes not from the mint of the heart.

Like the lone bird that flutters her pinion, And warbles in bondage her strain, I have struggled to fly thy domain, But find that the struggle is vain!

Bessy Bell.

When life looks drear and lonely, love, And pleasant fancies flee, Then will the Muses only, love, Bestow a thought on me!

Mine is a harp which Pleasure, love, To waken strives in vain; To Joy's entrancing measure, love, It ne'er can thrill again!-- Why mock me, Bessy Bell?

Oh, do not ask me ever, love, For rapture-woven rhymes; For vain is each endeavor, love, To sound Mirth's play-bell chimes!

Yet still believe me, dearest love, Though sad my song may be, This heart still dotes sincerest, love, And grateful turns to thee-- My once fond Bessy Bell!

Those eyes still rest upon me, love!

I feel their magic spell!

With that same look you won me, love, Fair, gentle Bessy Bell!

My doom you've idly spoken, love, You never can be mine!

But though my heart is broken, love, Still, Bessy, it is thine!

Adieu, false Bessy Bell!

The Day is Now Dawning.

William.

The day is now dawning, love, Fled is the night-- I go like the morning, love, Cheerful and bright.

Then adieu, dearest Ellen: When evening is near, I'll visit thy dwelling, For true love is here.

Ellen.

Oh, come where the fountain, love, Tranquilly flows; Beneath the green mountain, love, Seek for repose; There the days of our childhood, In love's golden beam, 'Mong the blue-bells and wildwood, Pa.s.sed on like a dream.

William.

Oh, linger awhile, love!

Ellen.

I must away.