Look on Me Thus No More

It is thy pity makes me weep,
My soul was strong before;
Silent, yet strong its griefs to keep
From vainly gushing o’er.
Turn from me, turn those gentle eyes!
In this fond gaze my spirit dies:
Look on me thus no more!

Too late that softness comes to bless,
My heart’s glad life is o’er;
It will but break with tenderness,
Which cannot now restore!
The lyre-strings have been jarr’d too long,
Winter hath touch’d the source of song!
Look on me thus no more!