University of Virginia Library


120

LINES, WRITTEN 29TH JULY, 1808.

Oh Love, the bosom formed for thee
No meaner joy can move;
Not to be loved is not to be,
To him who knows to love.
'Tis not the rapturous transport sought,
In passion's granted aim;
'Tis not the kiss with nectar fraught,
The look without a name;
But 'tis the soft endearing sense,
The wish with wish that blends,
That to each word an influence
Of fascination lends.
'Tis the fond partial estimate,
In confidence sublime;
The thought that swells with warmth so great,
That reason seems a crime.

121

'Tis this, oh Love, or chiefly this,
Which, for the once-loved breast,
When ceases thy celestial bliss,
Robs future life of rest.