Louisa Stuart Costello

(1799-1870 / France)

Louisa Stuart Costello Poems

41. To My Mother 1/1/2004
Best Poem of 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.

Read the full of Lines.—when This Heart Is Cold And Still

The Inca

'Tis eve, the sun is sinking in the lake—

The lake, all glorious with his golden beams,

Whose calm clear breast reflects the mountains back

That raise their huge heads to the varied clouds.

The trees and flowers that grow along its banks

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