Poetical fragments of the late Richard Alfred Millikin with an authentic memoir of his life |
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ODE TO LOVE. |
 | Poetical fragments of the late Richard Alfred Millikin |  |
ODE TO LOVE.
O! thou whose eyes the shadowy art
Durst not in living tints impart,
But veil'd in mystic shades those orbs of fire
Whose potent blaze of various hue,
What human nerve could hope to view,
And not in pangs of keenest force expire?
Durst not in living tints impart,
But veil'd in mystic shades those orbs of fire
Whose potent blaze of various hue,
What human nerve could hope to view,
And not in pangs of keenest force expire?
Where'er thy living altars burn,
Healing rest shall ne'er return;
Still fed by sighs the scorching pyres ascend,
And tears, thy frequent off'rings fall;
Relentless power, that humblest all,
Thou, only thou, the stubborn heart can bend.
Healing rest shall ne'er return;
Still fed by sighs the scorching pyres ascend,
And tears, thy frequent off'rings fall;
Relentless power, that humblest all,
Thou, only thou, the stubborn heart can bend.
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Thou, of Pity, eldest born,
Thee thy mother's smiles adorn,
And languid softness that the soul can tame,
And on thy guileful steps attending,
Rosy wreaths with myrtle blending,
Stands young Desire to fan thy purple flame.—
Thee thy mother's smiles adorn,
And languid softness that the soul can tame,
And on thy guileful steps attending,
Rosy wreaths with myrtle blending,
Stands young Desire to fan thy purple flame.—
But oh! who shares that dang'rous joy,
And thee adores, relentless boy,
Shall all too late, in fruitless pangs deplore
His wasted health and plunder'd rest
And hope that heals the wounded breast,
And find his peace and liberty no more.—
And thee adores, relentless boy,
Shall all too late, in fruitless pangs deplore
His wasted health and plunder'd rest
And hope that heals the wounded breast,
And find his peace and liberty no more.—
| Poetical fragments of the late Richard Alfred Millikin | |