Song Poem by Mary Anne Browne

And can'st thou believe that my passion has perish'd,
Tho' the torrent that first overwhelm'd me is gone :
No ; - first in this heart thy dear image is cherish'd,
Tho' the stream of affection run silently on.

As the lamps that enliven the tombs of the dead,
And all the dark vault with their brilliancy fill,
So love round this heart its blest radiance has shed,
And my passion burns brightly-tho' hiddenly-still.