Jealousy

Alas! sad Jealousy! the scalding tear
Drops on her hands — her brow aches sadly too;
This morn she wandered half the country through.
Weeping, with those false eyes for ever near:
She, who looked boldly in the front of Love,
And searched his glittering face, so proud and fair,
Must droop her gaze, declining from above,
And clasp his feet, and shed her sorrows there:
Or, like some aged lazar must she lie,
Some palsied crone, who hath no voice but tears —
Who sees the long-expected leech pass by
Her couch, to whisper hope in younger ears;
And her heart trembles, dying, yet astir;
She knows the healer can do nought for her!