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Page 3 - I never lov'da tree or flow'r, But 'twas the first to fade away. I never nurs'da dear gazelle, To glad me with its soft black eye, But when it came to know me well, And love me, it was sure to die ! — THOMAS MOORE (1779-1852) Ldlld Rookh: The Fire-Worshippers It is a bitter disappointment when you have sown benefits, to reap injuries.
Page 3 - twas the first to fade away. I never nursed a dear gazelle, To glad me with its soft black eye, • But when it came to know me well, And love me, it was sure to die ! Now too— the joy most like divine Of all I ever dreamt or knew, To see thee, hear thee, call thee mine,— Oh, misery ! must I lose that too ? Yet go — on peril's brink we meet ; — Those frightful rocks — that treacherous sea — No, never come again — though sweet, Though heaven, it may be death to thee.