LSC (1799-1870 / France)

Lines.—why Look'D I On That Fatal Line

Why look'd I on that fatal line?
Why did I pray that page to see?
Too well I knew no word of thine
Was fraught with aught but pain to me.
I should have known, I should have thought
The fleeting hope would soon decay!
So oft the gleam of joy it brought
Has only shone to pass away.
Thy hand had traced the words I read;
And in that dream I wandered on—
Forgot their cherish'd spell was fled,
Thy vows no more—thy fondness gone.
I lived whole years of joy again
I dwelt on each recorded vow;
Oh! tender was their meaning then—
Alas! they have no meaning now!

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