Night Poetry 2
J
John Boyle O’Reilly
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Oh! no! I would not love again
E'en had I still the power given;
I would not risk its pain and fears
E'en though its joys were taste of heaven.
A breath may blight the heart we prize;
A whisper weave deceit around it;
And then our heart's most tender chord
Is wounded by the chain that bound it.
'Tis hard to see death's chilling hand
The life-strings of our treasure sever:
But harder still when loving hearts
Are rudely rent apart for ever.
But ah! such griefs are naught to those
That fill the heart where passion burned
Till falsehood burst the mask and showed
That love by heartless scorn returned
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