SADNESS.
Reading edition
'I cannot but remember such things were, That were most pleasant to me.'
Shakspeare.
I.
I know not why!—but oft a deep gloom shading, Steals o'er my gayest mood, my happiest hours; The glory from my ardent soul is fading— A tempest withers Hope's reviving flowers! I know not why!
II.
I know not why!—but oft, when laughter thrilling, Leaves its light echo joyously behind, Tears from their secret founts mine eyes are filling; I shudder, as the leaf shakes in the wind— I know not why!
III.
Do I not know? Can Fate her stern course alter? Are they not shadows of the brightness gone, Which make the fond heart faint, the red lip falter, Leaving me mournful memories alone— They tell me why!
IV.
They are past and gone! Those days that were so glad and bright, Oh, can we call back one? Ah, never!—would we might! The memories of our early years, Shall hallow still this cherish'd spot— And hopes, though faded, ne'er forgot, Whose light is quenched in tears!
L. B. Smith.