To my Georgie.
MY cousin, I am gazing on thee now,
And well I mark, with soul of joy and pride,
The changing beauty of thy glorious face.
With rapture swelling in my heart of love
I gaze upon thy young and joyous cheek,
Where roses pure reveal their richest dyes,
And shed their sweetest perfume—thy soft eye,
Thy soft, meek eye of mild and tender blue,
Trembling beneath its dark and fringy lash,
And glowing with the spirit-dreams that seem
Reflected from its calm, mysterious depths,
Like gems from ocean-caves—thy lofty brow
O'er which the blue veins stray like tranquil streams
Along a lovely plain—thy temples pale,
Where thy brown wealth of waving tresses floats
In beautiful luxuriance—thy lips
Of richest coral, where a thousand smiles
Appear and flee in frolic chase, like birds
Around a sleeping lake at morning-tide—
I gaze on these, sweet cousin, and in all
I see a spirit of deep purity;
A living, breathing, glowing soul of deep
And holy purity, from which dark Vice
And Sin would cower and fly, rebuked and quelled
As by Religion's power.
And well I mark, with soul of joy and pride,
The changing beauty of thy glorious face.
With rapture swelling in my heart of love
I gaze upon thy young and joyous cheek,
Where roses pure reveal their richest dyes,
And shed their sweetest perfume—thy soft eye,
Thy soft, meek eye of mild and tender blue,
Trembling beneath its dark and fringy lash,
And glowing with the spirit-dreams that seem
Reflected from its calm, mysterious depths,
Like gems from ocean-caves—thy lofty brow
O'er which the blue veins stray like tranquil streams
Along a lovely plain—thy temples pale,
Where thy brown wealth of waving tresses floats
In beautiful luxuriance—thy lips
Of richest coral, where a thousand smiles
Appear and flee in frolic chase, like birds
Around a sleeping lake at morning-tide—
I gaze on these, sweet cousin, and in all
I see a spirit of deep purity;
A living, breathing, glowing soul of deep
And holy purity, from which dark Vice
And Sin would cower and fly, rebuked and quelled
As by Religion's power.
My cousin dear,
Thou art a very dream of loveliness,
And beauty is thy purity. Thou art
A creature whose high soul is troubled not
With the temptations of a world of sin.
Thy gentle spirit here hath kept undimmed
The angel-charm on which our God in heaven
Set His own signet of unchanging truth.
I love thee, and I reverence thy high
And holy strength of purpose. Gentleness,
And loftiness, and virtue are in all
Thy feelings, and they stamp thy mortal life
With an immortal beauty.
Thou art a very dream of loveliness,
And beauty is thy purity. Thou art
A creature whose high soul is troubled not
With the temptations of a world of sin.
Thy gentle spirit here hath kept undimmed
The angel-charm on which our God in heaven
Set His own signet of unchanging truth.
I love thee, and I reverence thy high
And holy strength of purpose. Gentleness,
And loftiness, and virtue are in all
Thy feelings, and they stamp thy mortal life
With an immortal beauty.
Cousin dear,
As here I fix my tearful eyes on thee,
And hear thy tones of pure and gentle love,
My spirit seems to see an angel's form,
And hear the cadence of an angel's voice.
Thou art young, pure, and sweet—life beckons thee
To a bright destiny. Thy loving friends
Are ever, ever round thee, making earth
All that thy true and gentle heart could crave
In its wild fairy visions. There are those
For ever round thy glowing path, who fling
A brightness on thy being, and to whom
Thy own sweet life is as the radiant beam
And the refreshing dew-drop to the parched
And desert earth. Ay, thou art blest with all
That makes life beautiful, with not one cloud
To dim thy heaven. Thus may it ever be,
Dear friend, with thee. May no dark sorrows e'er
Come o'er thy tranquil life, like those that frown
So dark o'er my sad fate. Oh I would pray
The Power who sends to me a night of grief
And storm of bitter tears, to give to thee
The bright sky where no thunder-cloud e'er breaks
The holy blue to give thee a bright path,
Where no foul serpents coil to blight and
The angels' shining footsteps, and no thorns
Mingle with love's pure garlands.
As here I fix my tearful eyes on thee,
And hear thy tones of pure and gentle love,
My spirit seems to see an angel's form,
And hear the cadence of an angel's voice.
Thou art young, pure, and sweet—life beckons thee
To a bright destiny. Thy loving friends
Are ever, ever round thee, making earth
All that thy true and gentle heart could crave
In its wild fairy visions. There are those
For ever round thy glowing path, who fling
A brightness on thy being, and to whom
Thy own sweet life is as the radiant beam
And the refreshing dew-drop to the parched
And desert earth. Ay, thou art blest with all
That makes life beautiful, with not one cloud
To dim thy heaven. Thus may it ever be,
Dear friend, with thee. May no dark sorrows e'er
Come o'er thy tranquil life, like those that frown
So dark o'er my sad fate. Oh I would pray
The Power who sends to me a night of grief
And storm of bitter tears, to give to thee
The bright sky where no thunder-cloud e'er breaks
The holy blue to give thee a bright path,
Where no foul serpents coil to blight and
The angels' shining footsteps, and no thorns
Mingle with love's pure garlands.
Cousin sweet,
May peace, and joy, and hope be thine on earth
May these e'er be thy blessed ministers,
Thy guardian-spirits here, and may they crown
Thy beaming brow in God's own Paradise,
With their bright wreath of immortality.
May peace, and joy, and hope be thine on earth
May these e'er be thy blessed ministers,
Thy guardian-spirits here, and may they crown
Thy beaming brow in God's own Paradise,
With their bright wreath of immortality.
Ohio River, June 23