PALE sorrow’s cloud rests on my Muse’s bow’r,
And mourns the drooping of each vernal flow’r;
“Their early fall,” she cries, “to life pourtrays,
“How short man flourishes, how swift decays!”
Say, mournful Maid, that lov’st o’er tombs to weep,
Would’st thou reverse the doom of silent sleep?
Not all thy tears can one past hour repeal,
On which grim death has fix’d his during seal.
Ah! loveliest passion of the pensive soul!
Fate’s stern decree no dewy charms controul;
Not all the blandishments of pray’r or song
Can soothe the pow’r that rules the gloomy throng.
No! never, never! could thy sweetest Muse
Warm blood into the lifeless shade infuse;
Tho’ thou could’st draw the raptur’d skies to hear,
As once Cecilia charm’d their ling’ring ear.
Call then Minerva! let her at thy shrine
With gentle pity her bright glories twine;
Together they each blast of life will brave,
Till thought becomes familiar with the grave.
(Emma Lyon)
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Based on Topics: Life Poems, Soul Poems, Cry Poems, Sleep Poems, Fate & Destiny Poems, Courage PoemsBased on Keywords: cecilia, blandishments, flourishes, repeal, infuse, pourtrays