Page:Moyarra- An Australian Legend in Two Cantos, 1891.djvu/66

 No longer thy distempered view: The ringlet curls which wont to stray Adown those cheeks in wreathed play, No longer weave their witching maze Ensnaring thy rapt gaze, But, like the bruised tendril, cling Lifeless and withering: Still, in their last act merciful. They shroud from thee those orbs, now dull, Whose twin-born beams with grateful ray Once cheered, with added light, thy day. Yet gazest thou? fond fool! desist: Like thee have thousand thousands striven The spectre in his course to arrest Whose mystery is yet unriven: And still, as to the rapid driven The mighty river's ceaseless swell, Of which no drop returns to tell The thronging myriads where it fell, But plunges to the drear abyss— Thus much alone revealed "It is"— Or as of mist the floating stream Which wavers in the morning beam, Anon, its grossness laid aside