1
’Tis true: the rose has left thy cheek
Thine eyes no longer shine;
And vulgar soul in vain may seek
The charm so priz’d by mine:
But there is one which loves to trace
Amidst the ruins of thy face,
Departed Beauty’s shrine:
There is an eye that could not bear
To lose the light still living there!
2
Yet it is sad to think those eyes
Now dim and sightless grown,
Had once the beam which love supplies
And shone on me alone:
But sweeter ’tis to mourn thee blind
Than from unclouded eyes to find
The ray of kindness flown
O! it had been a pang too dire
To see that cherish’d ray retire!
3
And thou art blest; — for life’s decay
Thine eye shall never see;
Nor mark the cold and blighted sway
Of envious Time in me:
Thou canst not watch my transient sleep
Nor grieve while by thy side I weep
For joys withheld from thee; —
Thou seest not how I hate the light
Which brings no blessing to thy sight!
4
Yet those dim eyes a speech possess
Which Beauty’s voice excels;
The pow’r of brightest eyes is less
Than in thy darkness dwells.
A light which asks no sunbeam’s aid,
Like stars that reign in midnight shade,
Thy earthly gloom dispels; —
Fate may thy mortal sight remove
But gives thee still the eye of love!