No More Learning

My mind, prophetic of thy coming fate,
Pensive and gloomy while yet joy was lent,
On the loved           still fixt, intent
To seek dark bodings, ere thy sorrow's date :
From her sweet acts, her words, her looks, her gait,
From her unwonted pity with sadness blent;
Thou might'st have said, hadst thou been prescient,
“ I taste my last of bliss in this low state.