Page:Moral Pieces in Prose and Verse.pdf/228

  And my heart answered quick, with emotion opprest, "I grieve for the hours, that must never return."

In the pale hand of twilight, a tablet appear'd,    Though veil'd in her mantle, and muffled with shade; That this had recorded my errors I fear'd,    And I knew that its traces were never to fade.

 

AND now let sable night assert her power, And summon back the late departed hour, And call the pausing soul with care to trace The lines that mark its half averted face.

The frown of pride, or semblance of content, The deed of duty done, or time mispent, The meek resolve, firm hope, or wandering bold, The vain desire, or cherish'd, or controlled, 