“Do I not feel?” The doubt is keen as steel. Yea, I do feel — most exquisitely feel; My heart can weep, when, from my downcast eye, I chase the tear, and stem the rising sigh:
Deep buried there I close the rankling dart, And smile the most when heaviest is my heart. On this I act — whatever pangs surround, ‘ Tis magnanimity to hide the wound!
When all was new, and life was in its spring, I lived an unloved, solitary thing; Even then I learn'd to bury deep from day The piercing cares that wore my youth away:
Even then I learn'd for others’ cares to feel; Even then I wept I had not power to heal: Even then, deep-sounding through the nightly gloom, I heard the wretched's groan, and mourn'd the wretched's doom.
Who were my friends in youth?— The midnight fire — The silent moonbeam, or the starry choir; To these I‘ plain'd, or turn'd from outer sight, To bless my lonely taper's friendly light;
I never yet could ask, howe'er forlorn, For vulgar pity mix'd with vulgar scorn; The sacred source of woe I never ope, My breast's my coffer, and my God's my hope.
But that I do feel, Time, my friend, will show, Though the cold crowd the secret never know; With them I laugh — yet, when no eye can see, I weep for nature, and I weep for thee.
Yes, thou didst wrong me,... I fondly thought, In thee I'd found the friend my heart had sought! I fondly thought, that thou couldst pierce the guise, And read the truth that in my bosom lies;
I fondly thought, ere Time's last days were gone, Thy heart and mine had mingled into one! Yes — and they yet will mingle. Days and years Will fly, and leave us partners in our tears:
We then shall feel that friendship has a power To soothe affliction in her darkest hour; Time's trial o'er, shall clasp each other's hand, And wait the passport to a better land.
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