Classic Poem

I lov'd thee ere I knew thy worth—
There was a sweetness in thy smile,
That breath'd of heaven more than earth,
And told thy bosom void of guile.

There was a brightness in thine eye,
A ray that beam'd from mind alone;
Upon thy cheek the rose's die,
And in thy voice affection's tone.

I lov'd thee—could I else but love?
For thou wert beauteous, as the forms
Which thwart our youthful visions move,
Ere we have felt life's blighting storms.

I lov'd thee—did I ever give
One moment's pang to thy pure breast?
For thee alone I wish'd to live,
And with thee was—oh! more than blest!

I saw thee die—I did not weep
Above thy cold, thy timeless bier;
But then awoke, what will not sleep,
The anguish that is raging here!

Few are the tears that I have shed,
And few the words of sorrow spoken;
But I have suffer'd, in their stead,
The throbbings of a heart that's broken.

Years have gone by, and still I bear
The blighted life that will not cease;
My heart still beats, but on it ne'er
Will beam again the light of peace.

Life is to me a weary waste;
Its sun hath sunk, its verdure fled:
The loveliest vision—but, tis past!—
The spell's dissolved—Eliza's dead!

The grave—the grave, where thou art laid,
Is now my sole, my earnest prayer:
Oh that this feverish frame would fade—
This aching head were resting there.