 | The poetical works of Samuel Woodworth |  |
THE SMILE OF LOVE.
Yes, there's a light whose effulgence can brighten
Grief's gloomy aspect with sparkles of joy,
Chase from the heart which its splendors enlighten
Each sombre care that presumes to annoy.
Pure are its rays, as the dawn's first reflection,
Grateful as sunbeams when tempests are o'er,
Oh 't is the smile of an artless affection,
Beaming from eyes and a heart we adore.
Dark fate may vainly lower,
O'er hope's enamelled bower,
The smile of affection each cloud will remove,
That warm celestial ray melts cloudy care away,
Earth has no charm like the sweet smile of love.
Grief's gloomy aspect with sparkles of joy,
Chase from the heart which its splendors enlighten
Each sombre care that presumes to annoy.
Pure are its rays, as the dawn's first reflection,
Grateful as sunbeams when tempests are o'er,
Oh 't is the smile of an artless affection,
Beaming from eyes and a heart we adore.
Dark fate may vainly lower,
O'er hope's enamelled bower,
The smile of affection each cloud will remove,
That warm celestial ray melts cloudy care away,
Earth has no charm like the sweet smile of love.
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While through this life's dusky vale we are straying,
Pressed by misfortune, and harassed by fears,
Sighing o'er pictures of fancy, decaying—
Sprinkling our pathway with unheeded tears,
Be but the lustre of love's radiations
Shed o'er the scene, and its terrors will cease,
Sighs will be changed into joy's aspirations,
Tears be converted to dew-drops of peace.
Bright beam of heavenly bliss!
Earth has no charm like this,
'T is the reflection of light from above:
When first we feel the ray, how sweet the pulses play!
Earth has no charm like the sweet smile of love.
Pressed by misfortune, and harassed by fears,
Sighing o'er pictures of fancy, decaying—
Sprinkling our pathway with unheeded tears,
Be but the lustre of love's radiations
Shed o'er the scene, and its terrors will cease,
Sighs will be changed into joy's aspirations,
Tears be converted to dew-drops of peace.
Bright beam of heavenly bliss!
Earth has no charm like this,
'T is the reflection of light from above:
When first we feel the ray, how sweet the pulses play!
Earth has no charm like the sweet smile of love.
| The poetical works of Samuel Woodworth | |