Page:The Venetian Bracelet.pdf/214

Rh

With no near kindred ties on whom could dwell Love that so sought to be beloved as well. Too sensitive for flattery, and too kind To bear the loneliness by fate assign'd, Her life had been a struggle: long she strove To fix on things inanimate her love; On pity, kindness, music, gentle lore, All that romance could yield of fairy store. In vain! she loved:—she loved, and from that hour Gone were the quiet loves of bird or flower; The unread book dropp'd listless on her knee, The untouch'd lute hung on the bending tree, Whose unwreathed boughs no more a pleasant shade For the lone dreamings of her twilight made.