Poem by Caroline Lamb

* * *

Would I had seen thee dead and cold,
In thy lone grave asleep,
Than live, thy falsehood to behold,
And penitent to weep:
For better, I thy grave could see,
Than know that thou art false to me!


Or rather, would that I had died,
When happy on thy breast-
My love had then been satisfied,
And life's last moments blest,
For they taste bliss without alloy,
Who die in the sweet dream of joy!


But no! I feel the fault was mine,
To think affection's chain
Could thy proud wayward heart confine,
When honor's claim was vain:
Who robs the shrine where virtue lies,
Will not the stolen relic prize! 

1. Lines to Harriet Wilson
2. Weep For What Thou'st Lost
3. My Heart's Fit To Break
4. After Many A Well-Fought Day
5. This Heart Has Never Stoop'D Its Pride

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