Tears are in those dark eyes now!
Have my rush, incautious words
Waken'd Feeling's slumbering chords?
Wherefore dost thou bid me look
At you dark-bound journal book?--
_There_ the register appears
Of the lapse of twenty years.

Thou hast been a happy bride,
Kneeling by a lover's side;
And unclouded was thy life,
As his loved and loving wife;--
Thou hast worn the garb of gloom,
Kneeling by that husband's tomb;--
Thou hast wept a widow's tears
In the lapse of twenty years.

Oh! I see my error now,
To suppose, in cheek and brow,
Strangers may presume to find
Treasured secrets of the mind:
_There_ fond Memory still will keep
Her vigil, when she _seems_ to sleep;
Though composure re-appears
In the lapse of twenty years.

Where's the hope that can abate
The grief of hearts thus desolate
That can Youth's keenest pangs assuage,
And mitigate the gloom of Age?