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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=354046" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Widow To Her Son’s Betrothed</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">AH, cease to plead with that sweet cheerful voice, <br>Nor bid me struggle with a weight of woe, <br>Lest from the very tone that says 'rejoice' <br>A double bitterness of grief should grow; <br>Those words from THEE convey no gladdening thought, <br>No sound of comfort lingers in their tone, <br>But by their means a haunting shade is brought <br>Of love and happiness for ever gone! <br>II.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My son!--alas, hast thou forgotten him, <br>That thou art full of hopeful plans again? <br>His heart is cold--his joyous eyes are dim,-- <br>For him THE FUTURE is a word in vain! <br>He never more the welcome hours may share, <br>Nor bid Love's sunshine cheer our lonely home,-- <br>How hast thou conquer'd all the long despair <br>Born of that sentence--He is in the tomb? <br>III.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">How can thy hand with cheerful fondness press <br>The hands of friends who still on earth may stay-- <br>Remembering his most passionate caress <br>When the LONG PARTING summon'd him away? <br>How can'st thou keep from bitter weeping, while <br>Strange voices tell thee thou art brightly fair-- <br>Remembering how he loved thy playful smile, <br>Kiss'd thy smooth cheek, and praised thy burnish'd hair? <br>IV.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">How can'st thou laugh? How can'st thou warble songs? <br>How can'st thou lightly tread the meadow-fields, <br>Praising the freshness which to spring belongs, <br>And the sweet incense which the hedge-flower yields? <br>Does not the many-blossom'd spring recal <br>Our pleasant walks through cowslip-spangled meads,-- <br>The violet-scented lanes--the warm south-wall, <br>Where early flow'rets rear'd their welcome heads? <br>V.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Does not remembrance darken on thy brow <br>When the wild rose a richer fragrance flings-- <br>When the caressing breezes lift the bough, <br>And the sweet thrush more passionately sings;-- <br>Dost thou not, then, lament for him whose form <br>Was ever near thee, full of earnest grace? <br>Does not the sudden darkness of the storm <br>Seem luridly to fall on Nature's face? <br>VI.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It does to ME! The murmuring summer breeze, <br>Which thou dost turn thy glowing cheek to meet, <br>For me sweeps desolately through the trees, <br>And moans a dying requiem at my feet! <br>The glistening river which in beauty glides, <br>Sparkling and blue with morn's triumphant light, <br>All lonely flows, or in its bosom hides <br>A broken image lost to human sight! <br>VII.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But THOU!--Ah! turn thee not in grief away; <br>I do not wish thy soul as sadly wrung-- <br>I know the freedom of thy spirit's play, <br>I know thy bounding heart is fresh and young: <br>I know corroding Time will slowly break <br>The links which bound most fondly and most fast, <br>And Hope will be Youth's comforter, and make <br>The long bright Future overweigh the Past. <br>VIII.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Only, when full of tears I raise mine eyes <br>And meet thine ever full of smiling light, <br>I feel as though thy vanish'd sympathies <br>Were buried in HIS grave, where all is night; <br>And when beside our lonely hearth I sit, <br>And thy light laugh comes echoing to my ear, <br>I wonder how the waste of mirth and wit <br>Hath still the power thy widow'd heart to cheer! <br>IX.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Bear with me yet! Mine is a harsh complaint! <br>And thy youth's innocent lightheartedness <br>Should rather soothe me when my spirits faint <br>Than seem to mock my age's lone distress. <br>But oh! the tide of grief is swelling high, <br>And if so soon forgetfulness must be-- <br>If, for the DEAD, thou hast no further sigh, <br>Weep for his Mother!--Weep, young Bride, for ME!</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=354046" data-title="The Widow To Her Son’s Betrothed de Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton" data-description="I.

AH, cease to plead with that sweet cheerful voice, 
Nor bid me struggle with a weight of woe, 
Lest from the very tone that says 'rejoice' 
A double bitterness of grief should grow; 
Those words from THEE convey no gladdening thought, 
No soun..."></div>
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