POEMS.
53
To fold thee in a faint embrace,Uphold thy drooping head;
And show that love, however vain.Nor thou nor I can feel again.
8 .
Yet how much less it were to gain ,Though thou hast loft me free,
The loveliest things that still remain,Than thus reiucmhcr thee!
The all of thine that cannot dieThrough dark and dread Eternity,
He turns again to me,
And more lliy buried love endearsThan aught, except its living years.