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From deeper founts than Time shall e'er destroy,

All spoke to thee in Summer's rich caress,

Even so my heart, though wordless too, could bless:

It could but feel a joy to know thy joy.

Letter II.—After Death's Mockery

When Death from out the dark, by one blind blow,

Strikes down Love's heart of hearts—severs a life—

Cleaves it in twain as by a sudden knife,

Leaving the dreadful Present, dumb with woe,

Mocked by a Past whose rainbow-skies aglow

O'erarch Love s bowers where all his flowers seem rife

In bloom of one sweet loving girl and wife—

Then Friendship s voice must whisper, whisper low.

Though well I know 'tis thou who dost inherit

Heroic blood and faith that lends the spirit

Strength known to souls like thine of noblest strain,

Comfort I dare not proffer. What relief

Shall Friendship proffer Love in such wild grief?

I can but suffer pain to know thy pain:

I can but suffer pain; and yet to me

Returns that day whose light seemed heavenly light,

Whose breath seemed incense rising to unite

That lawn—where every flower, and bird and bee

Seemed