As a beam o`er the face of the waters may glow While the tide runs in darkness and coldness below, So the cheek may be tinged with a warm sunny smile, Though the cold heart to ruin runs darkly the while. One fatal remembrance, one sorrow that throws Its bleak shade alike o`er our joys and our woes, To which life nothing darker or brighter can bring, For which joy has no balm and affliction no sting — Oh! this thought in the midst of enjoyment will stay, Like a dead, leafless branch in the summer`s bright ray; The beams of the warm sun play round it in vain; It may smile in his light, but it blooms not again.SourceThe script ran 0.001 seconds.
The script ran 0.001 seconds.
