To Henry
Amelia Alderson Opie
1769 to 1853
Thy fatal form, where'er I go,
Still swims before my sight;
It dooms the day to restless woe,
Of sleep it robs the night:
While thou art wandering far away,
From all such sorrow free;
Forgetting her, who, night and day,
Can think of NOUGHT BUT THEE.
Yet, be it so! I would not cloud
Thy days in gloom like mine;
No…. though my life to grief be vowed,
May constant bliss be thine!
I'll ne'er by looks, or language, speak
The pang that preys on me;
Nor shalt thou, if my heart should break,
Suspect it BREAKS FOR THEE.
Amelia Alderson Opie's To Henry
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