Classic Poem

A sister's kiss — an infant's prayer —
A parent's love — a vestal's vow —
The Evening Star — the morning air —
Are not more pure than thou:
I dare not love thee — but my eyes
Have told thee whom they idolize.

I held and still I hold thee dear,
Of more than mortal worth,
A spirit of another sphere
Too good and fair for earth:
And I would blush to wound thine ear
With aught that Angels might not hear!

But since our pious zeal is faint
My church must be forgiven,
If it allows at least a saint,
To help us on to heaven:
Thou art my saint! — in every prayer
I always see thee smiling there!