The White Lady to Edward

THOU who seek'st my fountain lone,
With thoughts and hopes thou dar'st not own ;
Whose heart within leap'd wildly glad,
When most his brow seem'd dark and sad ;
Hie thee back, thou find'st not here
Corpse or coffin, grave or bier;
The dead alive is gone and fled--
Go thou, and join the living dead !

The living dead, whose sober brow
Oft shrouds such thoughts as thou hast now,
Whose hearts within are seldom cured
Of passions by their vows abjured ;
Where, under sad and solemn show,
Vain hopes are nursed, wild wishes glow.
Seek the convent's vaulted room,
Prayer and vigil be thy doom ;
Doff the green, and don the grey,
To the cloister hence away !