Lyrics of the heart With other poems. By Alaric A. Watts. With forty-one engravings on steel |
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TO CAROLINE BOWLES.
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 | Lyrics of the heart |  |
47
TO CAROLINE BOWLES.
NOW MRS. SOUTHEY.
I know thee only in thy page
Of simplest truth, by taste refined;—
But though I ne'er have seen thy face,
Not seldom, do I love to trace
The features of thy mind!
Of simplest truth, by taste refined;—
But though I ne'er have seen thy face,
Not seldom, do I love to trace
The features of thy mind!
Pure as the calm, sequestered stream,
That winds its way through flowers and fern;
Now gliding here, now wandering there,
Diffusing coolness everywhere,
Refreshing all in turn:—
That winds its way through flowers and fern;
Now gliding here, now wandering there,
Diffusing coolness everywhere,
Refreshing all in turn:—
So do thy strains, serene and sweet,
Well from their calm, untroubled shrine;
Winning their way from heart to heart,
And healing many a mourner's smart,
With balsam, half divine!
Well from their calm, untroubled shrine;
Winning their way from heart to heart,
And healing many a mourner's smart,
With balsam, half divine!
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What though I ne'er have clasped thy hand,
I see thee oft in Fancy's glass;
“Edwin” and “Ranger” in thy train,
Pacing across the village plain,
The “Broken Bridge” to pass.
I see thee oft in Fancy's glass;
“Edwin” and “Ranger” in thy train,
Pacing across the village plain,
The “Broken Bridge” to pass.
And mark thy devious footsteps threading
The “Churchyard's” green and grassy rise;
Now, stopping by some fresh-made grave,
News of the timeless dead to crave,
To make the living wise.
The “Churchyard's” green and grassy rise;
Now, stopping by some fresh-made grave,
News of the timeless dead to crave,
To make the living wise.
Or by the “open casement sitting,”
With “autumn's latest flowers” before thee;
Drinking thy “Birdie's” merry notes,
Or tracking the sun as he proudly floats
To his haven of rest and glory.
With “autumn's latest flowers” before thee;
Drinking thy “Birdie's” merry notes,
Or tracking the sun as he proudly floats
To his haven of rest and glory.
And when grey Twilight weaves her web,
And the sounds of day-life melt away;
In thy “garden-plot” I see thee stand,
Watching the “night-stock's” leaves expand,
Or framing some soothing lay.
And the sounds of day-life melt away;
In thy “garden-plot” I see thee stand,
Watching the “night-stock's” leaves expand,
Or framing some soothing lay.
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Some low, sweet dirge, of softest power
To stir the bosom's inmost strings;—
When friends departed, pleasures fled,
Or a sinless infant's dying bed,
Are the themes thy fancy brings.
To stir the bosom's inmost strings;—
When friends departed, pleasures fled,
Or a sinless infant's dying bed,
Are the themes thy fancy brings.
Oh! much I love to steal away
From garish strains, that mock my heart;
To steep my soul in lays like thine,
And pause o'er each wildly-witching line,
Till my tears, unbidden, start.
From garish strains, that mock my heart;
To steep my soul in lays like thine,
And pause o'er each wildly-witching line,
Till my tears, unbidden, start.
For thou hast ever been to me
A gentle monitor and friend;—
And I have gathered from thy song,
Thoughts full of balm for grief and wrong,
That solace while they mend.
A gentle monitor and friend;—
And I have gathered from thy song,
Thoughts full of balm for grief and wrong,
That solace while they mend.
Hence, have I sought in simple phrase,
To give my gratitude a tongue;
And if one stricken heart I bring,
For comfort, to the self-same spring,
Not vainly have I sung.
To give my gratitude a tongue;
And if one stricken heart I bring,
For comfort, to the self-same spring,
Not vainly have I sung.
50
Adieu! We ne'er may meet on earth,
Yet I feel I know thee passing well;—
And when a pensive face I see,
Fair as my cherished thoughts of thee,
I'll deem it thine—Farewell!
Yet I feel I know thee passing well;—
And when a pensive face I see,
Fair as my cherished thoughts of thee,
I'll deem it thine—Farewell!
| Lyrics of the heart | |