TO F----.
BELOVED ! amid the earnest woes That crowd around my earthly path --(Drear path, alas! where grows Not even one lonely rose) -- My soul at least a solace hath In dreams of thee, and therein knows An Eden of bland repose. And thus thy memory is to me Like some enchanted far-off isle In some tumultuos sea -- Some ocean throbbing far and free With storms -- but where meanwhile Serenest skies continually Just o're that one bright island smile. 1845. Next![]() |