Page:Parerga.djvu/117

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INTO COLD INDIFFERENCE.
107
High the summer-grass is waving O'er the Loved One's head.Oh that showers of bitter weepingCould revive the pale flower sleeping In that lowly bed!
Is the dreary lesson vain? Does sensation clingFor fresh tortures to thy bosom?Must again Love's poison-blossom From the sear'd branch spring?
Yes, the old familiar feeling Re-asserts its reign:Unresisting, unreflecting,Only Apathy rejecting, Let me love again
In its native skies the Spirit Starry calm may know;But a flower-like alternation,Now delight, now desolation, Blend its doom below.
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