Page:The Venetian Bracelet.pdf/216

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Alas for the young heart, when love is there, Its comrade and its confidant, despair! How often leant in some unnoticed spot, Her very being by the throng forgot, Shrunk back to shun the glad lamp's mocking ray, Pass'd many a dark and weary hour away, Watching the young, the beautiful, the bright, Seeming more lovely in that lovely light; And as each fair face glided through the dance, Stealing at some near mirror one swift glance, Then, starting at the contrast, seek her room, To weep, at least, in solitude and gloom! And he, her stately idol, he, with eye Dark as the eagle's in a summer sky, And darker curls, amid whose raven shade The very wild wind amorously delay'd,