 | Madrigals, songs and sonnets |  |
155
V.
What man is there loves not the moon's white shell,Carv'd out upon the purple sky aright,
When stars are waking in the early night,
And flowers are closing up each tender bell
For dewy sleep? Ah! dear friend, loved so well!
Thou, like the moon, didst borrow all thy light
From the sweet source of glory and delight,
The sun, my deity, my oracle!
Now for thy own sake art thou dear to me,
For I have learn'd to find in all thy ways
Peculiar beauty, where at first I saw
Only the lovely and reflected grace
Of that pure soul who all through life must be
My crown of comfort, my desire, and law.
| Madrigals, songs and sonnets | |