Henry Louis Vivian Derozio Poems

Why hang'st thou lonely on yon withered bough?
Unstrung for ever, must thou there remain;
Thy music once was sweet - who hears it now?
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My country! In thy days of glory past
A beauteous halo circled round thy brow
and worshipped as a deity thou wast—
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Last night - it was a lovely night,
And I was very blest -
Shall it not be for Memory
A happy spot to rest?
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I

With surmah tinge the black eye's fringe,
'Twill sparkle like a star;
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'It is that hour when dusky night
Comes gathering o're departing light,
When hue by hue and ray by ray,
Thine eye may watch it waste away,
...