 | Grouped thoughts and scattered fancies |  |
6
II.
SYMPATHIES.
I will breathe music in the little bellThat cups this flower, until it takes a tone
For every feeling human heart has known;
Though hearts their secrets may not often tell,
Mine is the charm to win them: I will wake
Strains, which though new to men, they shall not fail
To tremble as they hear,—as an old tale,
Will with new joy the absent wanderer take,
Moving his spirit with a strange delight!
Love will I win from friendship—the old lure
Will I make new, and all the new secure;
And beauty never thence shall fade from sight!
Think not I mock thee—spells of higher power
Are gathered in the blue depths of this flower.
| Grouped thoughts and scattered fancies | |