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111
EVA.
O not with heartless eulogy, or flattery's idle word,Can I approach the crystal fount God's breath has often stirred;
With thee I own a higher spell, and feel a purer air,
For when I strive to speak thy praise, it trembles into prayer!
Prophetic thoughts that silent dwell beside the source of tears,
And hopes that seem too sweet and high to know the blight of years,—
A solemn tenderness that pleads that life to such as thee
May prove more happy and divine than it is wont to be,—
All—all forbid that I profane the shrine of grace and youth,
With any tribute but a wreath twined by the hand of truth.
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To trace the workings of thy soul with exquisite surprise,
Or watch thy fancies quiver like dew-drops on the grass,
I think some dream of beauty in thee has come to pass;
And visions rise of fairer worlds whose memory time has quelled,
The weight of life is lifted, the gloom of earth dispelled;
I see the bloom upon the grass, the sparkle on the wave,
And fear no more the shaft of fate, or shadow of the grave;
A faith in something bright and good that cannot pass away,
Redeems the world from loneliness and hope from slow decay.
I ask not for thee, dearest, the weary crown of fame,
Earth boasts no sweeter title than thy loved and gentle name;
I would not that thy goodness should dim in fortune's glare,
Or thy flowers of pleasure wither in the world's corrupted air;
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And thy soul ne'er vainly listen for an echo to her song;
And when affection's vine shall shoot around its elm to twine,
O mayst thou find as fond a heart and true a love as mine!
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