O for a mantling bower hung by the loaded vine

O for a mantling bower hung by the loaded vine,
Through whose quivering leaves shines the moon's mellow light,
Sunk on pillowy roses,
Silent to muse all the night away!

O for a soft hour at eve, with her my heart adores!
O for that union of souls, where thought to thought responds,
And our harmonized feelings
Blended may rise on the winds to heaven.

O for that language of looks, where eye to eye speaks love,
Where smile answers to smile, and tear is shed for tear,
Where our kindling glances
Tell all the wishes that burn within!

O for those days that are gone, when one heart beat with mine,
When she smiled as we met, wept her soul's tribute at leaving me,
And with seeming devotion
Hung on the lessons I loved to give.

Days! ye were lovely to me, brightest I ever knew;
Brighter ye still might have been, had not a cloud from hell,
Over my ill-fated fortunes
Hung, till the light of my soul was gone.

Backward I look on a dream checkered with bright and dark;
Youth swelled with hope, fame-enthralled, health, peace, and innocence,
And thy Elysian bowers,
Love, life's dearest and sweetest charm.

Such were the lights; but the shades—fear and despondency,
Hopes blighted, health lost, neglect, folly, and indolence,
Till despair wrapped her raven pall
Round my torn heart to eternity.

Fairest and purest and best,—fair as the world in bloom,
Pure as the clear mountain spring, bright as the souls in heaven,—
Such my fancy believes thee,
Such—but no efforts can make thee mine.

Life without thee is a waste, with thee a paradise;
Never on earth can we meet,—O, can we meet in heaven?
We have parted for ever,—
Thine be the joy, mine the wretchedness.

Tossed like a ship on the sea, mast broke and rudder gone,
Sorrow and madness behind, darkness and death before,
Live a few moments in agony,
Then be as though I had never been.
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