Encreasing evermore, till like a dower

It benizon humanity for aye?

All thy poor gold resolveth into dust

Before the test of such a scene as this:

Can it charm forth the blossom of a flower

Ere summer bids it with her gentle smile?

Can it restore the verdure to the leaf

When yellow Autumn marks it for her own?

Or, in the noontide bid the dew-shower rise

To fill one rosy chalice to the brim?

Go! gild thee with it, worldling, as thou wilt,

Yet all thy pains will leave thee but a fool!

[Pg 12]

Ay! there is love to beckon me away

And lead me to a fountain of delight,

Gliding before me in its purity,

Like some bright angel guiding souls to heaven.

O Love! have I not drained thee to the dregs,

Thy pleasures and thy sorrows equally;

Clinging unto thee as the Arab doth

 Prev. P 16/251 next