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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=447577" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Juliet After The Masquerade. By Thompson</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">SHE left the festival, for it seem'd dim<br>Now that her eye no longer dwelt on him,<br>And sought her chamber,--gazed, (then turn'd away),<br>Upon a mirror that before her lay,<br>Half fearing, half believing her sweet face<br>Would surely claim within his memory place.<br>The hour was late, and that night her light foot<br>Had been the constant echo of the lute;<br>Yet sought she not her pillow, the cool air<br>Came from the casement, and it lured her there.<br>The terrace was beneath, and the pale moon<br>Shone o'er the couch which she had press'd at noon,<br>Soft-lingering o'er some minstrel's love-lorn page,--<br>Alas, tears are the poet's heritage!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">She flung her on that couch, but not for sleep;<br>No, it was only that the wind might steep<br>Her fever'd lip in its delicious dew:<br>Her brow was burning, and aside she threw<br>Her cap and plume, and, loosen'd from its fold,<br>Came o'er her neck and face a shower of gold,<br>A thousand curls. It was a solitude<br>Made for young hearts in love's first dreaming mood:--<br>Beneath the garden lay, fill'd with rose-trees<br>Whose sighings came like passion on the breeze.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Two graceful statues of the Parian stone <br>So finely shaped, that as the moonlight shone<br>The breath of life seem'd to their beauty given, <br>But less the life of earth than that of heaven.<br>'Twas PSYCHE and her boy-god, so divine<br>They turn'd the terrace to an idol shrine,<br>With its white vases and their summer share<br>Of flowers, like altars raised to that sweet pair.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And there the maiden leant, still in her ear<br>The whisper dwelt of that young cavalier;<br>It was no fancy, he had named the name<br>Of love, and at that thought her cheek grew flame:<br>It was the first time her young ear had heard<br>A lover's burning sigh, or silver word;<br>Her thoughts were all confusion, but most sweet,--<br>Her heart beat high, but pleasant was its beat.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">She murmur'd over many a snatch of song<br>That might to her own feelings now belong;<br>She thought upon old histories she had read,<br>And placed herself in each high heroine's stead,<br>Then woke her lute,--oh! there is little known<br>Of music's power till aided by love's own.<br>And this is happiness: oh! love will last<br>When all that made it happiness is past,--<br>When all its hopes are as the glittering toys<br>Time present offers, time to come destroys,--<br>When they have been too often crush'd to earth,<br>For further blindness to their little worth,--<br>When fond illusions have dropt one by one,<br>Like pearls from a rich carkanet, till none<br>Are left upon life's soil'd and naked string,--<br>And this is all what time will ever bring.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">--And that fair girl,--what can the heart foresee<br>Of her young love, and of its destiny?<br>There is a white cloud o'er the moon, its form<br>Is very light, and yet there sleeps the storm;<br>It is an omen, it may tell the fate<br>Of love known all too soon, repented all too late.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Letitia+Elizabeth+Landon">Letitia Elizabeth Landon</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <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=447577" data-title="Juliet After The Masquerade. By Thompson de Letitia Elizabeth Landon" data-description="SHE left the festival, for it seem'd dim Now that her eye no longer dwelt on him, And sought her chamber,--gazed, (then turn'd away), Upon a mirror that before her lay, Half fearing, half believing her sweet face Would surely claim within his memo..."></div> </div> </div>
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