Poetry Archives

Go forth, my voice, through the wild air,
  In the lone stillness of the night,
  Beneath the cold moon’s pale blue light;
Seek Eugenia, and declare,
As warmth and promise lurk below
A waste of lifeless, drifted snow;

So, while my lips inertly move,
  While many heavy fetters bind,
  And press upon my languid mind,
Oh! tell her not to doubt my love!
Affection still her hold shall keep,
Although her weary servants sleep.

Friendship to me is like a flower,
  Yielding a balm for human woe,
  I less than ever could forego;
More prized, more needed every hour!
Perchance it dies for want of care,
But as it withers, I despair!