TO MISS JULIA DEAN.
59
When in the maddening burst of thy young grief,
Thy own dear Romeo from thee torn, thy arms
Are thrown out wildly in a frantic prayer
For his return! And when upon the earth,
In passion's stormiest mood, thy form is flung
In utter, hopeless, crushing agony,
The deep and mute upheavings of thy strong
And frenzied soul wring drops of voiceless grief
From hearts unused to tears.
Thy own dear Romeo from thee torn, thy arms
Are thrown out wildly in a frantic prayer
For his return! And when upon the earth,
In passion's stormiest mood, thy form is flung
In utter, hopeless, crushing agony,
The deep and mute upheavings of thy strong
And frenzied soul wring drops of voiceless grief
From hearts unused to tears.
The mute appeal
Of those blue orbs, the marble fixedness
Of those sweet features in the trance of grief,
When thou art left by all thy heart holds dear;
Thy face so radiant in its loveliness,
Yet shadowed by the griefs that darkly lie
Upon the broken altar of the heart;
Thy music-cadences when in the strange,
Deep poetry of passion, they are breathed
From thy young lips—all touch the soul with power
Mysterious and resistless.
Of those blue orbs, the marble fixedness
Of those sweet features in the trance of grief,
When thou art left by all thy heart holds dear;
Thy face so radiant in its loveliness,
Yet shadowed by the griefs that darkly lie
Upon the broken altar of the heart;
Thy music-cadences when in the strange,
Deep poetry of passion, they are breathed
From thy young lips—all touch the soul with power
Mysterious and resistless.
