Page:Landon in Literary Gazette 1825.pdf/41



A sad remembrance of sweet thoughts, Shedding their softness over pain. But may I hope to feel like this, To dare to think of thee again?

How I have loved thee, I have taught My lute, my spirit's passionate words; But to have breathed one half my love, The passion would have burst its chords.

I would have rather been a slave In fettered bondage by thy side, Than shared in all the world could give, Had it not given thee beside.

I treasured up thy lightest word, Dwelt upon all that breathed of thee— Caught thy least sigh—caught thy least look, Why did I think it turn'd on me?

My lute had often breathed of love, But never thought of love as mine; Love's pulse lay sleeping in my heart— To wake it into life was thine!

And then I almost feared my fame, Lest thou mightst think my heart was there:— Ah, to be nothing, save to thee, Was all that heart's, fond woman's, prayer.

And then I dreamed I was beloved, And there was heaven in the dream; That such a dream could pass away! That such a heaven could only seem!

I saw thee change, yet would not see; Knew all, what yet I would not know; My foolish heart seemed as it feared, To own thee false, would make thee so.