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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=354036" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Ringlet</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">OH! treasured thus by passion's slave, <br>Dear relic of the bygone year; <br>Say, what remains of her who gave? <br>The vain regret--the useless tear. <br>The clasping hands--the throbbing brow-- <br>The murmuring of that shadowy word, <br>To which had answered once--oh! now, <br>Why is that light quick step unheard? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">What in those syllables is found, <br>That such a start of woe can claim? <br>A word is but an empty sound,-- <br>Alas! it is--it was--her name! <br>It was--yes, she was once! as gay, <br>As full of life, as aught that lives; <br>The breath--the life--hath passed away, <br>But not the pang her memory gives. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Bright tress! thy beauty bringeth now <br>A thousand dreams of rapture gone; <br>Her sunny eyes, her radiant brow, <br>The low, light laughter of her tone. <br>Gazing on thee, again she stands <br>Before me, as in days of old; <br>With all her young head's shining bands, <br>And all its wavy curls of gold. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Till as I view thee, silken tress, <br>I feel within my suffering heart,-- <br>'Tis all which now my sight can bless, <br>All that of her will not depart. <br>Oh! thou that wert life's dearest prize, <br>That now art but a thought of pain; <br>Why do thy tones--thy laughing eyes-- <br>Rise up to wring my soul again? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I roam in vain:--the sun that beams <br>Is still the sun we looked upon; <br>My hand, my lonely hand, in dreams, <br>Seeks still for thine to clasp its own. <br>My heart resists all time--all change, <br>And finds no other form so dear. <br>My memory, wheresoe'er I range, <br>Clings to the spot where thou wert near. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Change!--thou wert all life's scenery: <br>To me, the billowy, bounding wave-- <br>The wide green earth--the far blue sky, <br>Form but the landscape of thy grave! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oh! bitter is their boon of life <br>Who cannot hope--who may not die-- <br>I linger in a world of strife, <br>Whilst thou art in the happy sky! <br>I envy thee the peace thou hast, <br>And, but 'tis sin, the knee would bow, <br>That He who made thee all thou wast, <br>Would make me all--that thou art now!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Caroline+Elizabeth+Sarah+Norton">Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=354036" data-title="The Ringlet de Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton" data-description="OH! treasured thus by passion's slave, 
Dear relic of the bygone year; 
Say, what remains of her who gave? 
The vain regret--the useless tear. 
The clasping hands--the throbbing brow-- 
The murmuring of that shadowy word, 
To which had answered on..."></div>
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