Classic Poem

My heart too firmly trusted, fondly gave
Itself to all its tenderness a slave;
I had no wish but thee, and only thee;
I saw no joy, no hope, beyond thy smile;
I knew no happiness, but only while
Thy love-lit eyes were kindly turned on me.

I took the tender image to my breast,
I made it there a dear, a cherished guest,
I laid it on the pillow of my soul;
I gave it all my feeling, and around
The fond idea all my heart-strings bound;
In that one point I blent my being's whole.

But thou hast gone, and left me here to bear
The weight of loneliness; thou thinkest not, where
Bright forms caress thee, of my bosom torn
By thee so coldly; but I cannot rend
Thy image from my heart, I cannot blend
Hate with the love so long, so fondly borne.

I feel my spirit falter, and my frame
Trembling and faint with weakness, but the flame
Of passion burns as brightly: — I will lay
My forehead on my pillow, and resign
My bosom to its torture, nor repine,
And let the fire consume my life away.