Classic Poem

BY LEWIS F. THOMAS .

Oh Ione! oh Ione! my heart's long lov'd ideal ,
The cherish'd idol of my soul, all beautiful and real;
Oh, thou hast been through days of gloom and many months of care,
The theme of one enduring thought — my hope and my despair.
Though' like a moth, I have been lur'd from genial air and skies,
To flit awhile beneath the light that shone from other eyes,
Yet hath their fire ne'er scathed me, and thine have shed the ray,
The holy sunshine of the soul, that lit my being's day.

Fair Ione! fair Ione! I 've sought in learned lore
The works of high Philosophy, that sages taught of yore;
I 've read of deeds of daring, for lady-love and fame,
And mark'd the bright and lofty course that wins an honor'd name;
I 've drunk at the Pierian fount that gushes forth in song,
And heard the poet's lay of love, in music float along;
But lore of Sage, and deed of Fame, and lay of Poesy —
I 've left them all, to roam alone, sweet girl, and muse on thee.

Dear Ione! dear Ione! the smiling stars, they say,
Hold myriads of destinies, depending on each ray;
But thou, love, art the cynosure, within whose sphere, must be
The revelation of my life — my will — my destiny.
For oh, I feel that it is thine, and it is thine alone,
To mingle with my very mind, and make each thought thine own;
To bid me up the steep ascent, to grasp Ambition's crown,
Or bring me with my shatter'd hopes, all broken-hearted, down.

O Ione! O Ione! my heart may broken be,
But I 'll not reck a broken heart, if broken 't is for thee.
And, oh! I would not, for the rule of monarch proud and high,
E'er cause a blush to light thy cheek, or tear to dim thine eye.
For me, then, suffer not regret to mar thy spirit's mirth,
And heed not, if my pathway be in dreariness and dearth;
And though the sky above my course, be dark and tempest-riven,
Be thine an ever-glorious day — an ever-smiling heaven.