Mundi et Cordis :: :: University of Virginia Library

The set sun of my joy again ariseth:
By thy sweet letter is my soul revived;
And as a sudden lamp dark sleep surpriseth,
Thy greeting starts my heart, in slumber gyved.
Thou hast wept o'er the closure of thy page;
And weeping words with weeping tears are blotted—
From the same fount that hath from age to age
Gush'd with the dew to all fond thoughts allotted:
Oh! they do seem the eloquent presage
Of bliss hereafter, sweet, though sorrow-spotted.
On “pity,” “love me,” “cherish,” and “forget,”
Have drops downfallen—the sweet words still seem wet:
Thus, thus on dry tears I moist tears let fall—
Would they were on thy cheek, whose rose would tinge them all!