Classic Poem

O! let no skeptic's reasoning zeal
Awake me from my dream of bliss!
There is — there is — I know — I feel —
There must be other Worlds than this!

What are their joys or why conferr'd
Or how — I will not stop to scan
Nor ask if any heavenly word
Revealed their mysteries to Man.

I need but look on those bright orbs
Which shine so calmly from above,
That single look my soul absorbs
In reveries of hope and love!

I look, and as they roll and blaze
My soul claims kindred with the skies
And they persuade me as I gaze
There's that in me, which never dies!

It is divine to think that Earth,
And earthly thoughts are cold and dim
Compared with those of Heavenly birth
Which lift the enraptured heart to Him!

For here, from youth to age we still
For some pure pleasure thirst and pine,
Our greatest good is mixed with ill,
Ev'n Love is only half divine.

Either it is our cruel fate
To see our young affections crost —
Or find a mutual heart too late,
Only to know how much we've lost:

To languish many a dangerous hour
Reading each other's glance and sigh —
To tremble in Temptation's power
Yet neither dare to sin nor fly.

Or else in broken hearted grief
O'er our first cherished passion bend
'Till Death shall come to our relief
The wretches true and only friend!

Or worse — when all is won — to find
Perfection's dream dissolve away —
The charm was only in our mind
Our idol but a thing of clay.

In cold indifference or disgust,
To drag a goading chain along,
And false ourselves, — in falsehood trust —
An interchange of wrong for wrong —

Or when the grave has set its seal
Upon the heart we wronged and wrung,
To find Remorse has clutch'd his steel,
And Conscience found at last her tongue!