 | Mundi et Cordis |  |
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XLVI. CONTENTMENT.
“If I dared write all I do feel and think,You would be satisfied.”—What is the chain
That binds thine eloquence to passion's brink?
O, cast it in the flood! It cannot sink
Upon that buoyant tide; but there may rain
Eternal freshness, from its floating pinions,
Over my thirsty heart and feverish brain.
Yet, words are but the fancy's airy minions,
Bearing no substance in their picturings vague;
And I with air could not be satisfied,
Which but contributes pestilence to plague:
But when lips' speech mute lips have ratified,
And our hearts' music is intensely blent,
I'll lay me on thy lap, and cry—Content!
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