University of Virginia Library


179

SONNET.

TO RELIGION.

Spirit most pure, who through the darkling air
Point'st the rich sapphire of eternal day,
Long have I sighing pac'd my lonely way,
The child of woe and heart-consuming care.
O lift from earth to heaven my languid eye!
Teach me to deem alike each joy, each pain
Of mortal coil but fleeting, empty, vain;
Guide to that hope which peers above the sky.
And still should torturing memory love to tell
Of past delight, no more the tale I'll fear,
Thy smile serene shall check each rising tear,
And passion's giddy gusts no more shall swell;
My calmed soul shall spurn her dark abode,
Soaring to meet her father, friend, and God.