imperishable store, More highly prized than all!—Possessing all The properties, most precious of the rest, In a superior measure and degree, Without alloy, sparkling with inward light! Unseen, untraced the process of his growth!— No aid from any human hand or care!—- No nourishment from any earthly dews! No ripening from our bright, material sun! But secretly supplied by Providence With some more pure, diviner aliment, And with more heavenly, searching radiance fill'd; For the superior comfort, higher bliss Of that in-drinking eye the soul of man!
Thus sang I, when fallacious hopes were rais'd Of his dear safety—whom, howe'er belov'd— However strong in health, and firmly built Like a fine statue of the antique world, As if he might have reach'd a century Without decrepitude, we ne'er again— Nor we alone, no other human eye— Can e'er behold! Then had I painted him Returning, as he lately left our shores, With all the fairness and the bloom of youth— The light brown hair, and its soft yellow gleams, Brightened with silver; thickening into shade, Now with a dove-like, now a chesnut hue! The smile of Peace and Love and joyful Hope! And those blue eyes, through whose dark lash the soul, Rejoicing, from its kind and happy home, Look'd forth with rapture, artless, and uncheck'd! Eyes, where Delight in careless luxury Lay nestling and indulging blissful thoughts; With every day-dream, for whose food the world Offers magnificence and loveliness; All graceful motions, and all graceful forms. The ripened nectar of delicious sounds, The social haunt—the lonely quiet hour; The Hopes embodying innocent and gay As those of Childhood, whose soft footstep past Not long before, not yet forgotten, by!
The letter, dearest, blotted with thy tears, In answer to a caution—fear—express'd By much too strongly—often gives my heart A secret pang—but of remorse for nought But paining thee—too tender to endure The thought that self-indulgence, or
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