76 love’s TOKEN-FLOWERS. 
And whispers, in Love’s thrilling tones, 
The words of winning praise ; 
And often in my eyes he looks, 
Some answering love to see, 
In vain,—he there can only read 
The faith of memory. 
He little knows what thoughts awake 
With every gentle word— 
How by his every tone the fount 
Of tenderness is stirred: 
The visions of my youth return, 
Joys far too bright to last, 
And while he speaks of future bliss, 
I think but of the past. 
Like lamps in eastern sepulchres, 
Amid my heart’s deep gloom, 
Affection sheds its only light 
Upon my lost one’s tomb: 
And as those lamps, if brought once more 
To upper air, grow dim, 
So my heart’s love is cold and dead, 
Unless it glow for him. 
