 | Phantasmion |  |
381
[Poor is the portrait that one look portrays]
Poor is the portrait that one look portrays,It mocks the face on which we lov'd to gaze;
A thousand past expressions all combin'd,
The mind itself depictur'd by the mind,
382
Yet, dearest mother, if on lasting brass
Thy very self to future times might pass,
Ill could I bear such monument to build
For future times with dearer memories fill'd:
Ah no! thy fadeless portrait in my breast
From earth shall vanish when I sink to rest;
But, ere to join thee on glad wings I go,
Thy sun-like influence, beaming here below,
In sorrow's hour, when earthly hope betrays me,
To heav'n above, my hope's best aim, shall raise me,
In hours of bliss when heav'n almost seems here,
For thy sweet memory claim the tribute tear;
So yon bright orb doth tearful incense gain
From glittering lake, swift rill, and humid plain,
Yet dries the spray that trembled in the shower,
And shines reflected from each dripping flower.
| Phantasmion | |