PARTED LOVE
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hat shall be said of this embattled dayAnd armed occupation of this nightBy all thy foes beleaguered,--now when sightNor sound denotes the loved one far away?Of these thy vanquished hours what shalt thou say,--As every sense to which she dealt delightNow labours lonely o'er the stark noon-heightTo reach the sunset's desolate disarray? Stand still, fond fettered wretch! while Memory's artParades the Past before thy face, and luresThy spirit to her passionate portraitures:Till the tempestuous tide-gates flung apartFlood with wild will the hollows of thy heart,And thy heart rends thee, and thy body endures.
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