A Lost Love

I meet thy pensive, moonlight face;
Thy thrilling voice I hear;
And former hours and scenes retrace,
Too fleeting, and too dear!

Then sighs and tears flow fast and free,
Though none is nigh to share;
And life has nought beside for me
So sweet as this despair.

There are crush'd hearts that will not break;
And mine, methinks, is one;
Or thus I should not weep and wake,
And thou to slumber gone.

I little thought it thus could be
In days more sad and fair
That earth could have a place for me,
And thou no longer there.

Yet death cannot our hearts divide,
Or make thee less my own:
Twere sweeter sleeping at thy side
Than watching here alone.

Yet never, never can we part,
While Memory holds her reign:
Thine, thine is still this wither'd heart,
Till we shall meet again.

by Henry Francis Lyte

Comments (10)

I little thought it thus could be In days more sad and fair That earth could have a place for me, And thou no longer there.- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - The heartache underlying these 4 lines reaches out and grabs me... reminding me we are all prone to this ending. I think I will read more of his poems
Wonderful poetry on love. There is nothing more sublime than a pure love that flows so thick in the lines of this poem. Simply amazing.
While memory holds her reign! ! Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
Wow! ! Nice and romantic love poem, i love it
Twere sweeter sleeping at thy side, than watching here alone. - I love this! ! ! ! !
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