Lyrics of the heart :: :: University of Virginia Library

'Tis summer's softest eve; the winds are laid,
The jarring sounds of day-life are at rest,
And all is calm and soothing; not a shade
Mars the blue beauty of the skies: the west,
Gathering its hues of splendour from the crest
Of yonder setting sun, is changing fast
From sapphire to bright gold; old ocean's breast
Is one broad plain without a cloud o'ercast:
'Tis day's divinest hour, its loveliest, and its last.

II

Tired of his sport, the wreck of human hearts,
There, on his mother's couch in slumber bound,
The God of Love reclines;—his idle darts,
Those ministers of woe, lie scattered 'round:
But that he guards, amid his dreams profound,

With so much jealous care, his unstrung Bow,
How might we now his vaunted strength confound;
From his own quiver pay the debt we owe,
And, with one keen, bright shaft, pierce our unconscious foe!

III

But who would wound a breast so passing fair!
Look! in immortal beauty where he lies:
His flushed cheek pillowed on his hand; his hair
Clustering, like sun-touched clouds in summer skies,
Around his glorious brow;—his twice-sealed eyes
With silken-fringed lids, like flowers that close
Their dewy cups at eve;—and lips whose dyes
Rival the crimson of the damask rose,
Wreathed with a thousand charms, all sweetness and repose.

IV

Hush! for a footfall may disturb his sleep;
Hush even your breathing, for a breath may break
His visioned trance! But no, 'tis deep, most deep;
The last low sigh of evening fans his cheek,
And stirs his golden curls; the last bright streak
Of parting day is fading from the west;
Dim clouds are gathering round yon mountain's peak,
Yet still he sleeps; and his soft-heaving breast,
Bright wings, brow, lips, and eyes, are redolent of rest.

V

Love, O young Love, how beautiful thou art!
The brightest dream that ever poet feigned
May scarce compare with thee! What though thy dart
The blood of many a gentle breast hath stained;
What though thy godlike powers thou hast profaned,
And proved to some an evil deity;
Yet, in thy softer moods, hast thou sustained
Full many a sinking heart, and thoughts of thee
Have often stilled the waves of this life's stormy sea!

VI

Thou art, indeed, omnipotent—divine!
And the wide world is vocal with thy name:
Princes and peasants bow before thy shrine;
Whilst gentle Woman, in all lands the same,
For good or evil, oftenest swells thy fame!
Noble and serf, the despot and the slave,
(For even the slave, if Love his homage claim,
May wear a double chain), thy shafts must brave,
And own thy mighty power to ruin or to save!