Littell's Living Age/Volume 144/Issue 1865/Surprised by Joy, Impatient as the Wind

by joy, impatient as the wind, I turned to share the transport, — oh, with whom? But thee, deep buried in the silent tomb, That spot which no vicissitude can find. Love, faithful love, recalled thee to my mind — But how could I forget thee? Through what power, Even for the least division of an hour, Have I been so beguiled as to be blind To my most grevious loss? That thought’s return Was the worst pang that sorrow ever bore, Save one, one only, when I stood forlorn, Knowing my heart’s best treasure was no more; That neither present time nor years unborn Could to my sight that heavenly face restore.