 | Grouped thoughts and scattered fancies |  |
52
LXXI.
INSENSIBILITY.
Methinks, there is no blindness such as this—To know not, though the treasure near us lies;
Love's treasure, first and dearest,—which the skies
Vouchsafed, when earth had lost all right to bliss;
The treasure of a true heart; which, to roof
Lowly brings life;—and, when all fortune spent,
Cheers with devotion and the sweetest proof,
So that the sufferer freshens with content;
And, in the desolation at his door,
Sees but the sweet security of all,
Which, lost to hapless Adam at the fall,
Eden regained, had left possession poor!
Yet daily, in our blindness, we rush on,
Though hearts around us cry imploring to be won.
| Grouped thoughts and scattered fancies | |