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XVIII. SYMPATHY.
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112

XVIII.
SYMPATHY.

1.

Oh, leave me not alone! the monarch bird,
Comes from his cloud-encompassed height again
To listen where affection's voice is heard,
“And stirreth up his nest!” nor yet in vain!
The wing, that steadied upward in the noonday sun,
And spurned the tempest with a cold disdain,
From Love alone that high empyrean won:
Home-luring love, when that proud flight is done.
Gently as dove he foldeth up the wing,
And tames the fierceness of the burning eye,
Where the loved one hath heard the breezes ring
Around the swaying pine, and deemed him nigh.
Warm from the nest he take his heavenward flight,
For Love hath lent him wings to soar where all is bright.