On a Faded Violet
The odour from the flower is gone
Which like thy kisses breathed on me;
The colour from the flower is flown
Which glowed of thee and only thee !
A shrivelled, lifeless, vacant form,
It lies on my abandoned breast;
And mocks the heart, which yet is warm
With cold and silent rest.
I weep --- my tears revive it not;
I sigh --- it breathes no more on me:
Its mute and uncomplaining lot
Is such as mine should be.
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