Classic Poem

WRITTEN BENEATH A PICTURE .

I

Nay , reproach me not, sweet one! I still am thine own,
Though the world in its toils hath detained me awhile!
The deep vision that spelled my lone bosom is flown,
And — a truant to love — I return to thy smile.
It hath ever been thus; — when condemned or deceived
By the many I scorned, or-the few that I loved;
Whilst I breathed my contempt, or in silentness grieved,
It was bliss to remember whose truth I had proved;
And the falsehood of friends, the crowd's hollow decree,
Served to bind me more fondly and firmly to thee!

II.

Yes, I still am thine own: — though I sometimes may mingle,
In lightness of spirit, with fools I despise;
In my heart — my dark heart — dwelling silent and single,
Is the thought of all others, it soothes me to prize
If I join the loud throng in its madness of mirth,
I but think how much purer our pleasures have been; —
If I gaze on the fair-bosomed daughters of earth.
Tis to turn to thy beauties — of beauty the Queen!
And if from man's dwellings to Nature I flee,
Glen, mountain, and ocean, seem breathing of thee!

III.

When a soft soothing glance from the eye of Affection
Breaks my midnight of gloom with its halo divine,
How surpassingly sweet is the bright recollection
Of the passionate love ever beaming from thine! —
'Twill beam on me no more — Yet though Death has bereft me
Of a form such as seraphs from Heaven might adore, —
In this image — thy features of beauty are left me,
And the lines of thy soul in my heart's core of core!
Then reproach me not, sweet one! for time shall not see
The hour that estranges one deep thought of thee!