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Poems

By Alfred Domett
  
  

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TO BIANCA.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


198

TO BIANCA.

As one, who having looked upon the Sun,
Deems every object of his after-sight
Wrapt in a swimming shroud, obscure and dun,
Of throbbing gloom—so much the Daystar's might
Of quivering brilliancy his vision crushed,
So much surpassed all else of fair and bright;—
Thus when the beams of loveliness which gushed
From thy meek form and, mind had filled the gaze
Of my arrested Soul, upon me rushed
Such blindness to what else had won my praise,
Such darkness dimmed what else had moved my sighs,—
I see no beauty in the vermeil glaze
Of other cheeks—no heart in other eyes—
In other hearts no love, no tenderness to prize.

199

And as the eyes, which thus without a screen
Have met that flashing orb, when closed may see
Full many an image of the Sun in green
Emerge from out the purple vacancy;—
So when thine absence throws a veil around
All things that once had interest for me,
Making this crowded world a void profound,
A barren blank, in which no spot of rest
My listless gaze of apathy hath crowned,—
I see upon the dim inane imprest
Thy sweet resemblance multiplied ;—a throng
Of visions of that Day-star of my breast
In each remembered aspect flit along,
And cheer my sinking heart—and reawake my Song.
1832.