 | Three Hundred Sonnets |  |
155
TO KLOPSTOCK'S SPIRIT.
Immortal mind, so bright with beautiful thought,And robed so fair in gentlest sympathy,
Thou Christian! by thy guardian angel taught
To strike the holiest harp of melody,
Would I were he for whom thy spirit sought
Prospective with affection's longing eye!
I feel I love thee, brother, as I ought;
Look down, and love me too, where'er thou art:
Ah! could I find a kindred echoing heart
As true as was thy Cidli's unto thine,
How would I bless the Grace that made her mine!
Yes, love as pure should through this bosom dart,
As in thy feeling nature nobly dwelt,
My thrilling heart should feel as thou hast felt.
| Three Hundred Sonnets | |