Clarissa, 5

It comes too late, thy present smiling,
It comes too late, thy present sigh!
The feelings all long since have perish’d
That thou didst spurn so cruelly.

Too late has come thy love responsive,
My heart thou vainly seek’st to stir
With burning looks of love, all falling
Like sunbeams on a sepulchre.

* * * * *

This would I learn: when life is ended,
O whither doth our spirit go?
Where is the flame when once extinguish’d?
The wind, when it hath ceased to blow?