I fear thee not, O d**h! nay, oft I pine
To clasp thy pa**ionless bosom to mine own,
And on thy heart sob out my latest moan,
Ere lapped and lost in thy strange sleep divine;
But much I fear lest that chill breath of thine
Should freeze all tender memories into stone,--
Lest ruthless and malign Oblivion
Quench the last spark that lingers on love's shrine:
O God! to moulder through dark, dateless years,
The while all loving ministries shall cease,
And time a**uage the fondest mourner's tears!
Here lies the sting!--this, this it is to die!
And yet great Nature rounds all strife with peace,
And Life or d**h, each rests in mystery!