Page:Poems Sigourney 1827.pdf/120

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Rend from thy lip that marble seal, And bid once more those accents flow, That waked even coldest hearts to feel, And taught forgetfulness to wo.

Wildly I rave!—as if thine ears The sad recital would receive; Vainly I weep!—as if those tears Could move thy sainted soul to grieve.

Time was,—when Christiern's treasured name No voice howe'er despised might speak, But from my bounding heart there came A tide of crimson o'er the cheek;

Time was, when Christiern's step was heard With raptured joy's tumultuous swell, And when his least and lightest word, Was stored in memory's choicest cell.

Yet have I lived to mourn thee lost, To find each earthly solace fled, And now, on time's last billow tost, To see thee rising from the dead!

Ha!—didst thou speak,—and call my soul To bowers where roses ever bloom, Where boundless tides of pleasure roll, And deathless love defies the tomb?

"I come! I come!"—strange lustre fired Her glazing eye, and all was o'er, No more that heaving breast respired, And earthly sorrows pain'd no more.