Louisa Stuart Costello
Lines.—when This Heart Is Cold And Still
When this heart is cold and still,
And can throb for thee no more;
When it wakes not to the thrill
Of the harp's wild chord;
Nor can e'en afford
A sigh to the days of yore;
Then come to my silent tomb,
Which the breeze will murmur over:
Where reigns the deepest gloom—
Where the bat flits by
And the ravens cry—
Thou shalt the spot discover.
By the brightness of the morning ray,
By the deepest shades of night—
Thy beauty has not pass'd away;
'Tis ever in my sight.
No sorrow e'er can light on me—
But when, beloved, we part,
My thoughts are bounded all in thee,
Thou Lote-tree* of my heart.