(_For The Mirror_.)
The star is set that lighted me
Thro' Fancy's wide domain,
And the fairy paths of poesy,
I now may seek in vain.
'Tis but when Sorrow's clouds appear,
In frowning darkness o'er me,
The light of Song bursts forth to cheer
The gloomy path before me.
As o'er the dusky waves at night,
Oft Mariners behold
That ocean-form, St. Ermo's light,
When tempests are foretold.
Two reasons in my mind arise.
Why Song is _now_ denied me;--
No light can venture near thine eyes,
Nor Grief--when thou'rt beside me!