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Lost Love Poems

Table of Contents

  1. Constancy by Colfax Burgoyne Harman
  2. The May After by Ada A. Mosher
  3. The Fisher's Wife by Susan Rhyce Beckwith
  4. Highland Mary by Robert Burns
  5. Thou Gloomy December by Robert Burns
  6. The Sea of Silence by Florence May Alt
  7. To One in Paradise by Edgar Allan Poe
  8. Estranged by Freeman E. Miller
  9. Remembrance by Emily Brontë
  10. My Woodland Bride by George Pope Morris

  1. Constancy

    by Colfax Burgoyne Harman

    I ne'er can love another
    As long as life may stand.
    No maid the wide world over
    Shall hold this heart or hand.

    As long as life lasts still shall gleam
    My love's undying ember.
    I loved her in life's spring time,
    I love her in December.

    Tho I should wed another,
    No love could bless the tie.
    My heart pleads on forever,
    The grave makes no reply.

  2. The May After

    by Ada A. Mosher

    They say that it is May, and, dear, I see
    Abloom the lilac and the Judas-tree;
    And in the waking woodlands, fluttering,
    Like bevy of white butterflies awing.
    Glints here and there the dogwood's blossoming.
    But O, for all to me—'t is May to me
    No more than this worn picture, dear, is thee;
    Thee, whose warm cheek pressed close against mine own—
    May's image this—her soul with thine is flown.

    And May—why I remember, May was young—
    And now I stand these wildwood flowers among;
    But they are older than the forest trees—
    As old as earth is—I can see in these
    All of creation's withered centuries!
    Aye, they are parched and dry as desert sand—
    Grave-grass alone is young in this lone land—
    Ah, no, they thoughtless speak, beloved, who say,
    Forgetting thou art gone, that this is May.

  3. The Fisher's Wife

    by Susan Rhyce Beckwith

    Lonely, desponding—the gathering gloom
    Slowly filling the quiet room—
    Sits the fisher's wife, with disheveled hair;—
    What does she see in the darkness there?

    Outside, the breakers, with sullen dash
    Fling high their spray to the window-sash,
    That, by the fitful gleams of the moonlight thrown,
    Seems like prison-bars on her floor of stone.

    On this same night, ten years before,
    While the angry sea lashed the rock-bound shore,
    She, anxiously watching, trimmed her light;—
    And the waves were cold, and the moon was bright.

    "Set the light, my lass, by the cottage door,"
    Said the fisher that morn as he sought the shore;
    "The moon will be up when I come to-night;
    Her wake once crossed, I shall be all right."

    With earnest eye, since the waning day,
    She had followed the moon in her upward way,
    And her quivering wake on the midnight sea,
    If there the looked-for boat might be.

    'Mong the rocks, where shadows so darksomely hide,
    Where the sea-foam that wreathed them was gone with the tide
    With tight'ning hands o'er the sickening heart,
    With blanching cheek, and lips apart—
    Like a statue she stood, so cold and white,
    Searching, but vainly, into the night.

    A tiny form with outstretched hands,
    And pink feet glancing among the sands,
    And a baby voice—"Mamma, mamma!"
    But the merciless sea, shock after shock,
    Assaulting the solid towering rock
    With fearful echoes, re-echoing far,
    Swallows the cry;
    Did'st thou hear it not?


    There's a desolate heart and an empty cot.
    And that little form, uncoffined and white,
    Revealed by the gleams of the pale moonlight,
    As pulseless it lay on the surf-washed shore,
    Shall rest on her memory evermore.

    'Tis this she sees in that quiet room,
    Where all is wrapped in the gathering gloom;
    And alone—God help her! she sits apart,
    With folded hands and a broken heart!

  4. Highland Mary

    by Robert Burns

    Ye banks, and braes, and streams around
    The castle o' Montgomery,
    Green be your woods, and fair your flowers,
    Your waters never drumlie!
    There Simmer first unfald her robes,
    And there the langest tarry:
    For there I took the last Fareweel
    O' my sweet Highland Mary.

    How sweetly bloom'd the gay, green birk,
    How rich the hawthorn's blossom;
    As underneath their fragrant shade,
    I clasp'd her to my bosom!
    The golden Hours, on angel wings,
    Flew o'er me and my Dearie;
    For dear to me as light and life
    Was my sweet Highland Mary.

    Wi' mony a vow, and lock'd embrace,
    Our parting was fu' tender;
    And pledging aft to meet again,
    We tore oursels asunder:
    But Oh! fell Death's untimely frost,
    That nipt my Flower sae early!
    Now green's the sod, and cauld's the clay,
    That wraps my Highland Mary!

    O pale, pale now, those rosy lips,
    I aft hae kiss'd sae fondly!
    And clos'd for ay the sparkling glance,
    That dwalt on me sae kindly!
    And mouldering now in silent dust,
    That heart that lo'ed me dearly!
    But still within my bosom's core
    Shall live my Highland Mary.

  5. Thou Gloomy December

    by Robert Burns

    Ance mair I hail thee, thou gloomy December!
    Ance mair I hail thee wi' sorrow and care:
    Sad was the parting thou makes me remember,
    Parting wi' Nancy, oh! ne'er to meet mair.
    Fond lovers' parting is sweet painful pleasure,
    Hope beaming mild on the soft parting hour;
    But the dire feeling, O farewell for ever!
    Is anguish unmingled, and agony pure.

    Wild as the winter now tearing the forest,
    'Till the last leaf o' the summer is flown,
    Such is the tempest has shaken my bosom,
    Since my last hope and last comfort is gone!
    Still as I hail thee, thou gloomy December,
    Still shall I hail thee wi' sorrow and care;
    For sad was the parting thou makes me remember,
    Parting wi' Nancy, oh! ne'er to meet mair.

  6. The Sea of Silence

    by Florence May Alt

    When between us two there rolled
    Wide Atlantic's sea,
    Ships too frail thy love to hold
    Brought thy words to me.
    Though thy letters few and far
    Crost a burning zone,
    Yet thy love rose like a star—
    I was not alone.

    When the white sails westward flew,
    "What are seas?" I cried;
    "What but ribbons broad and blue,
    That the gods have tied."
    Though across Pacific's sea,
    Drifted wrecks were blown,
    Still thy letters came to me—
    I was not alone.

    But today we met—behold,
    In the narrow street;
    And the Sea of Silence rolled
    To our ver feet.
    Not a smile to cross the space,
    Not a tender tone;
    I, while looking in thy face,
    Knew I was alone.

  7. To One in Paradise

    by Edgar Allan Poe

    Thou wast that all to me, love,
    For which my soul did pine—
    A green isle in the sea, love,
    A fountain and a shrine,
    All wreathed with fairy fruits and flowers,
    And all the flowers were mine.

    Ah, dream too bright to last!
    Ah, starry Hope! that didst arise
    But to be overcast!
    A voice from out the Future cries,
    “On! on!”—but o’er the Past
    (Dim gulf!) my spirit hovering lies
    Mute, motionless, aghast!

    For, alas! alas! with me
    The light of Life is o’er!
    No more—no more—no more—
    (Such language holds the solemn sea
    To the sands upon the shore)
    Shall bloom the thunder-blasted tree,
    Or the stricken eagle soar!

    And all my days are trances,
    And all my nightly dreams
    Are where thy grey eye glances,
    And where thy footstep gleams—
    In what ethereal dances,
    By what eternal streams.

  8. Estranged

    by Freeman E. Miller

    Though far apart, my darling, side by side
    We wander still and our fond yearnings meet,
    As when our hearts with highest raptures beat
    Before our footsteps trod the paths of pride;
    Our close companionship hath never died;
    True love and trust are always fair and sweet,
    And time from life's best hopes can never hide
    A kindred soul that made its own complete!
    So thou, dear one, shalt come once more to me,
    The sweeter grown for all thy years of pain;
    My longing arms shall open wide for thee,
    And thou shalt nestle on my breast again;
    Then perfect love shall richly crown the years,
    And both be better for our griefs and tears.

  9. Remembrance

    by Emily Brontë

    Cold in the earth—and the deep snow piled above thee,
    Far, far removed, cold in the dreary grave!
    Have I forgot, my only Love, to love thee,
    Severed at last by Time's all-severing wave?

    Now, when alone, do my thoughts no longer hover
    Over the mountains, on that northern shore,
    Resting their wings where heath and fern-leaves cover
    Thy noble heart forever, ever more?

    Cold in the earth—and fifteen wild Decembers,
    From those brown hills, have melted into spring:
    Faithful, indeed, is the spirit that remembers
    After such years of change and suffering!

    Sweet Love of youth, forgive, if I forget thee,
    While the world's tide is bearing me along;
    Other desires and other hopes beset me,
    Hopes which obscure, but cannot do thee wrong!

    No later light has lightened up my heaven,
    No second morn has ever shone for me;
    All my life's bliss from thy dear life was given,
    All my life's bliss is in the grave with thee.

    But, when the days of golden dreams had perished,
    And even Despair was powerless to destroy,
    Then did I learn how existence could be cherished,
    Strengthened, and fed without the aid of joy.

    Then did I check the tears of useless passion—
    Weaned my young soul from yearning after thine;
    Sternly denied its burning wish to hasten
    Down to that tomb already more than mine.

    And, even yet, I dare not let it languish,
    Dare not indulge in memory's rapturous pain;
    Once drinking deep of that divinest anguish,
    How could I seek the empty world again?

  10. My Woodland Bride

    by George Pope Morris

    Here upon the mountain-side
    Till now we met together;
    Here I won my woodland bride,
    In flush of summer weather.
    Green was then the linden bough,
    This dear retreat that shaded;
    Autumn winds are round me now,
    And the leaves have faded.

    She whose heart was all my own,
    In this summer-bower,
    With all pleasant things has flown,
    Sunbeam, bird, and flower!
    But her memory will stay
    With me, though we're parted—
    From the scene I turn away,
    Lone and broken-hearted!

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