Resolutions

Resolutions

No more shall sorrow grave my brow
With furrows deep as once she did;
No more will I supinely bow,
For reason, pace, and all forbid.

I gave my heart away to grief,
That of the tender melting kind:
And e'en I had a fond belief
That here was pleasure quite refin'd!

The "joy of grief!" 'tis but a name,
Think ye, it has the pow'r to bless?
Beware, nor more thy wo inflame,
Need not all conqu'ring wretchedness.

I've sunn'd myself in woman's eyes,
And press'd her glowing cheek to mine;
Believ'd her heart collapsing sighs,
And thought her, all in all, divine;

But time the alchymist, at length
Expos'd her wiles, and tore the veil;
And reason gathering up her strength,
Determin'd truth should hence prevail.

I dropp'd her love; I'll drop all love
Of woman from my thoughts and heart;
For never can the bosom prove
As real, what our hopes impart.

We rise to youth and manhood's prime,
And find with grief that ev'ry joy
Left by the sweeping scythe of time,
Is full of gloss, and base alloy.

Arion

2:22, p. 174

1828.08.22