The Death in Paris of Jane Sophia, Countess De Molande

Tears! are they tears indeed?
And can the dead heart bleed?
Suffering so long, so much,
O heart! I thought no touch
Of pain could reach thee more!
Alas! the thought is o'er.
I will wipe off the tear
That falls not on her bier
Who would have wept o'er mine.
Ah me! that form divine
Above my reach must rest
And make the blest more blest.