University of Virginia Library

TO S. N. F.

Were my soul as a harp, apt to be moved
To magic cadences, O Friend beloved!
Were my soul as a harp, and might my hand
The cunning of enchanters understand;
Ah then, sweet Sister, then should all the air
And all the earth and the whole deep rich sea
My power feel; that thence all things most fair,
Most beautiful, most like, dear Friend, to thee,
Might gather'd be; such as, the fragrances
Wonderful of the flowers; the splendid dyes
Shed by the western sun upon the skies;
And from the mines, and from the agëd seas
Their selfish hoards of costliest jewelries;
Added thereto, all the delicious sounds
Wherewith the feathery commonwealth abounds:
These should be fetch'd and magically blent
Into a glorious nectar; in the which
I would embathe my fingers, that the scent
Might enter through the strings into the sound
Of the new music of mine instrument,—
A music thence so wonderful and rich
Even should smiles spring in thy gentle eyes,
Smiles that must needs, for sweetness, end in tears;
While more than mortal harmonies should rise
Majestic on the portals of thine ears,—
Harmonies beautiful, that through all years
Should rise, and deep into thy spirit pass,
That like might thus mingle with like.
Alas!
I have no harp so powerful, sweet Friend;
I have no skill thus to make Nature lend
Her riches to the instrument I sway:
Yet Sister, O my Sister! I can send
Petition to the Father, Who ne'er misses
To hear prayer for His loved ones; I can pray,
And do, indeed, dear Sister, that with thine,—
Thy dearest, and thyself,—the hand Divine
May richly bide; that so thy joys and blisses
As many as the stars of heaven may be,
Or as the kind thoughts my heart bears for thee!