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TO AGNES.
Thine azure eyes, floating in pensive light,—Thy raven hair,—thy features, soul-imprest,
So tingeless and transparent—simply drest
In placid purity—serenely bright,—
Would make me deem that thou hadst winged thy flight,
A blessed Spirit, sped on love-behest,
From some celestial Home of sainted Rest!
But when thy dark-fringed eyelids, curved and white,
In mournful meekness veil thine eyes' blue beaming,
As sink a silver dove's wings o'er the dart,—
I feel how sweetly human is thy heart,
And long to reassure thy timid seeming,
Protect thy gentle innocence, and press
Thy breast to mine in ecstacy of tenderness!
April 1, 1832.
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