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Sarah A. Heinzerling, love, in English Clear filters

RomanticSarah A. Heinzerling

Reunited

Once more we stand Face to face—hand in hand, With trembling lips and tearful eyes We make no effort to disguise. The joy we feel Words alone could not reveal; The stifled sob—the silent kiss, Expresses well our present bliss. In this same place, Years ago—face to face,— In bitterness, without a sigh To show regret, we said goodbye. We little thought What a wreck pride had wrought, Until remorse, with cruel force, Had scourged us for our silly course.
RomanticSarah A. Heinzerling

The Messenger

O rose, bright rose with the heart of gold, I’ve watched your beautiful bloom unfold, From an emerald bud on a slender brier To a royal blossom flamed with fire; And of all the flowers that I have seen, O rich, red rose, you are the queen; O wonderful rose, you are the queen. O glorious rose, your fragrance rare, Is wasted here on the wanton air,— Your brilliant color and perfect form Will fade and wither from sun and storm, And none will know or care I ween The cruel fate of the garden queen; The sad, sad fate of the garden queen. There’s a nobler end for one so grand, I'll pluck you, rose, with a tender hand;
SadSarah A. Heinzerling

Deserted

The woods are dim and still, my love, No sound the silence waking, Except the throbbing of my heart That beats while it is breaking. How could you wound it so, my love, Give pain past human bearing, By rending bonds that only death Absolves from mutual wearing ? Night breezes pause in flight, my love, Where withered age is lying, To kiss the pallid cheek of one They know is dying—dying. Goodbye, my love! Goodbye, my love! My soul from earth is going; How dark and lonely is the way,— How chill the wind is blowing!
SadSarah A. Heinzerling

Villanelle

They suffer all the pangs of hell, And sip the dregs of human woe, Who love, and are not loved as well. When first they hear the final knell, Of hopes destroyed at one blow, They suffer all the pangs of hell. The valiant strive their grief to quell, To cover wounds they dare not show, Who love and are not loved as well. No matter in what land they dwell, Or where the broken-hearted go, They suffer all the pangs of hell. While seeking balm that will dispel Their miseries, that dailv grow; Who love, and are not loved as well. When love is born is hard to tell,
DreamySarah A. Heinzerling

Old Lace

If you could speak, old lace, Of time and deed and place, What stories we should hear Of days long past or near. How heads bent low in thought, While patient fingers wrought In intricate design, Your pattern bold and fine. How eyes gave out, and age Picked up youth’s scornful gage And in your meshes wove The mark of one who strove, Till she was vanquished sore, And saw, and wove no more. If you could speak, old lace, Of forms you helped to grace,
AngrySarah A. Heinzerling

The Parting

Goodbye forever—you are free! The love I gave returns to me, To die in loneliness and pain Because I lavished it in vain; Your fickle heart knows no regret, Mine also shall forget—forget! Goodbye forever! I will find A balm for healing wounds unkind; Though old loves die, new loves are born, To solace hearts like mine forlorn, And something whispers that for me A truer love is yet to be. Goodbye forever! You have had The joy of making one heart sad, But such a pleasure yet may turn To memories that stab and burn;

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