A FLOWER hath faded from my heart's own garden,
Whose blossoms should have gemmed the crown of Life,
Alas for me! Hope's golden day was marred in
Its purpling dawn, with richest promise rife,
Hence have I felt that weariness of soul,
Which time no more can cure than reason can control.

A star hath fallen from its dazzling zenith,
And dark Eclipse hath dimmed the orb of Time,
Alas for me! Bliss bloomed awhile, and then with
A sudden clash was heard the death-knell chime,
My Lamp of Love was blown out in the dark,
And helm and compass torn from being's storm-lashed barque.

The Present is a waste of desolation,
The Future seems a sunless gulf of gloom,
The Past, a glory-gleaming constellation,
Whose lustre will but light me to the tomb,
Since Fate hath ferry'd over Death's dark Sea
That sainted soul who should have walked this world with me.