 | The Poetical Works of James Gates Percival |  |
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[VII. O Love! thou art a pure and holy thing]
O Love! thou art a pure and holy thing,And none should ever dare to breathe thy name
Whose hearts are lit not with as bright a flame
As sunward burns around the eagle's wing:
O, let me not unworthy offerings bring
To one, whose all-commanding power can tame
Each vagrant wish, and stamp the brand of shame,
Where the least stains of earthly passion cling:
Then let me gather from my inmost heart
Pure feelings, that from infancy have slept,
Silent as waters in a hidden well;
And to the gentle offering then impart
The fire and tears that Sappho breathed and wept,
When her faint cithern gave its dying swell.
| The Poetical Works of James Gates Percival | |