Sweet spirit! if thy airy sleep
Nor sees my tears not hears my sighs,
Then will I weep, in anguish weep,
Till the last heart's drop fills mine eyes.
But if thy sainted soul can feel,
And mingles in our misery;
Then, then my breaking heart I'll seal--
Thou shalt not hear one sigh from me.
The beam of morn was on the stream,
But sullen clouds the day deform;
Like thee was that young, orient beam,
Like death, alas, that sullen storm!
Thou wert not formed for living here,
So linked thy soul was with the sky;
Yet, ah, we held thee all so dear,
We thought thou wert not formed to die.
On The Death Of A Lady,
Thomas Moore
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Poem topics: death, feel, sky, sleep, dear, sweet, young, hear, storm, spirit, thought, Valentine's Day, stream, anguish, heart, soul, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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