Page:Parerga.djvu/117

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INTO COLD INDIFFERENCE.
107
High the summer-grass is waving
 O'er the Loved One's head.
Oh that showers of bitter weeping
Could revive the pale flower sleeping
 In that lowly bed!

Is the dreary lesson vain?
 Does sensation cling
For fresh tortures to thy bosom?
Must again Love's poison-blossom
 From the sear'd branch spring?

Yes, the old familiar feeling
 Re-asserts its reign:
Unresisting, unreflecting,
Only Apathy rejecting,
 Let me love again

In its native skies the Spirit
 Starry calm may know;
But a flower-like alternation,
Now delight, now desolation,
 Blend its doom below.

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