Page:National Lyrics.pdf/340



Yes! hide beneath the mouldering heap, The undelighting, slighted thing; There, in the cold earth, buried deep, In silence let it wait the spring.

I stood where the lip of song lay low, Where the dust had gathered on beauty' brow; Where stillness hung on the heart of love, And a marble weeper kept watch above.

I stood in the silence of lonely thought, Of deep affections that inly wrought, Troubled, and dreamy, and dim with fear— —They knew themselves exiled spirits here!