Page:Landon in Literary Gazette 1836.pdf/5



But after comes a steadier light, A long and lasting dream; Like the full heaven which the sun Flings down on life's dark stream.

One lingers—for she dares not trust Her lamp upon the wave; She knows the omen ere it come— Her heart is its own grave.

There is a love that in the soul Burns silent and alone; Tho' all of early happiness Has long, too long been flown.

But, like the lotus, whose soft depths Receive the morning sun; The true fond flower still looks to heaven, Though light and day are done.

But she, amid her gladder friends, Leans pensive on the strand; She keeps her fairy bark unlaunched, Beside her trembling hand.

Why should she send her fairy freight To question future pain; She knows her utter misery— She loves, and loves in vain.

I pray his pardon, he who traced The graceful forms I see; Oh, magic painter! to thy skill The spirit yields its key.

The treasures of these distant lands Are given to thy will; But thou hast yet a dearer charm— The heart obeys thy skill. L. E. L.