SAD REGRETS. 



Sad regrets, from past existence 



Come like gales of chilling breath." CAMPBELL. 



O, for the joy to wander still, 

 By Egriff dams, and Lascoe Mill ; 

 O, for the songs of nightingales 

 Once heard in Lascoe's pleasant vales ; 

 And for a voice which there I heard, 

 Far sweeter than the sweetest bird. 



No more the lingering twilight hours, 

 The song of birds, the breath of flowers, 

 The tinkle soft of streams which fell 

 Around us in the shady dell, 

 No more no more the dream is done 

 The flowers are dead, and set the sun ! 



Yet I in thought, those scenes may pace, 

 And breathe as in some hallowed place ; 

 In fancy o'er each waterfall, 

 May, sadly soothed, the past recall ; 

 Till, in the strength of loves regard, 

 I recreate what death has marred. 



The bat will circle by the mill, 



The distant dog bay softly still ; 



The gate, but lightly clapp'd will sound, 



To make the quiet more profound; 



Till one will start up at my side, 



My perished hope, my vanished pride. 



Each waterfall will lightly leap, 

 Soft memory of her grace to keep ; 

 The leaves and blossoms waving light, 

 Will wave her form into my sight; 

 The violets breathe her living breath, 

 While she is in the vaults of death. 



No no those haunts I would not tread, 



Since she the soul of all is dead ; 



Glad light would fall on blossoms fair, 



But joy would never meet me there ; 



The birds would sing, the streams would flow, 



All tinctured by one inward woe ; 



The flowers would droop, the foliage wave, 



Like banners sighing o'er a grave. 



R. HOWITT. 



