From The Lady's Book, vol. 14–15, p. 142–143. The author is most probably John Benjamin Tolkien, the Professor's grandfather.
Oh! no, the spell is broken
And joy's sweet hour is o'er
The last sad word is spoken
We meet, we meet no more.
No longer may I cherish
Of love th' illusive dream
For this, a-las! must perish
With hope's expiring beam
Oh! no, the spell is broken
And joy's sweet hour is o'er
The last sad word is spoken
We meet, we meet no more.
No more from slumber waking,
I hail the eveerful dawn;
No more her smiles partaking,
I pace the verdant lawn –
I pace the verdant lawn.
Life's torch once brightly burning,
Fades like the meteor's ray.
Nor shall its light returning,
Illume my dreary way.
Oh! no, the spell is broken
And joy's sweet hour is o'er
The last sad word is spoken
We meet, we meet no more –
We meet, we meet no more.
Very pleasant poem, or song. He was a piano tuner so naturally a talented player too no doubt.
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