Fugitive Pieces
4.

Here I behold, its beauteous hue,

But where's the beam of soft desire?

Which gave a lustre to its blue,

Love, only love, could e'er inspire.

5.

Sweet copy! far more dear to me,

Lifeless, unfeeling as thou art,

Than all the living forms could be,

Save her, who plac'd thee next my heart.

6.

She plac'd it, sad with needless fear,

Lest time might shake my wavering soul,

Unconscious that her image there,

Held every sense in fast controul.

7.

Through hours, through years, through time 'twill cheer,

My hope in gloomy moments raise;

In life's last conflict 't'will appear,

And meet my fond, expiring gaze.


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