Page:The Venetian Bracelet.pdf/33

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Alas for the young heart thus early thrown Back on itself, the unloved and the lone! For this should be the lesson of long years, The weary knowledge taught and traced by tears, Till even those are frozen, and we grow Cold as the grave that yawns for us below: But this was like those sudden blasts that fling Unlook'd-for winter on the face of spring,— And worst woe for the heart, whose early fate Leaves it so young, and, oh, so desolate. She had one feeling left—it was of pride— Oh, misery; how much she had to hide! And steps were now approaching her: she sprung From off the couch, and every nerve was strung