Page:Felicia Hemans in The New Monthly Magazine Volume 39 1833.pdf/3



Sister! since I met thee last, O'er thy brow a change hath pass'd; In the softness of thine eyes Deep and still a shadow lies; From thy voice there thrills a tone Never to thy childhood known; Through thy soul a storm hath moved,— Gentle sister! thou hast loved!

Yes! thy varying cheek hath caught Hours too bright from troubled thought; Far along the wandering stream Thou art followed by a dream; In the woods and valleys lone, Music haunts thee, not thine own. Wherefore fall thy tears like rain?— Sister! thou hast loved in vain!

Tell me not the tale, my flower! On my bosom pour that shower;— Tell me not of kind thoughts wasted, Tell me not of young hopes blasted; Bring not forth one burning word, Let thy heart no more be stirr'd! Home alone can give thee rest,— Weep, sweet sister, on my breast!