"My own Maria! -- Ah my own -- my own!" Withheld my steps in such entreating tone, I turned -- so meek a form I could not fear, I pressed the extended hand and bathed it with a tear. -- I stood as I could never leave that place, Yet would have spoken, would have turned away: -- "My own Maria!" -- gazing on my face, As one long lost to him, did that lorn maniac say. I could not speak -- so lovely was the joy The maniac showed, 'twere cruel to destroy; And I had seen him look so lost in woe, That if I were not his -- I could not tell him so. "My own Maria!" -- with such tender grace, Repeated oft -- that now the maniac grew Dear and more dear; till urged to leave the place, I could not speak -- I could not @3look@1 adieu -- Lest I had seen him in his wild despair, And hastened to that prisoned maniac's cell, And left the world to dwell for ever there -- Few in that sordid world I loved so well: And often since that hour, thou poor unknown, In memory's tenderest thoughts, I have been all thine own! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM by ALEXANDER POPE THE LAW OF THE YUKON by ROBERT WILLIAM SERVICE WHERE GO THE BOATS? by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON EPITAPHS by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE CATERPILLAR by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD CLIO, NINE ECLOGUES IN HONOUR OF NINE VIRTUES: 6. OF PATIENCE by WILLIAM BASSE TO GEORGE, EARL DELAWARR by GEORGE GORDON BYRON |