Alone In Crowds To Wander On.

Alone in crowds to wander on,     And feel that all the charm is gone     Which voices dear and eyes beloved     Shed round us once, where'er we roved--     This, this the doom must be     Of all who've loved, and lived to see     The few bright things they thought would stay     For ever near them, die away.     Tho' fairer forms around us throng,     Their smiles to others all belong,     And want that charm which dwells alone     Round those the fond heart calls its own.     Where, where the sunny brow?     The long-known voice--where are they now?     Thus ask I still, nor ask in vain,     The silence answers all too plain.     Oh, what is Fancy's magic worth,     If all her art can not call forth     One bliss like those we felt of old     From lips now mute, and eyes now cold?     No, no,--her spell is vain,--     As soon could she bring back again     Those eyes themselves from out the grave,     As wake again one bliss they gave.