LINES TO A VASE.
Thou art a dainty dream
Of Eastern art,
To make a sorrow seem
Of joy a part.
Within thy graceful curves
What hopes were urned!—
The ashes of lost loves
Once passioned-burned.
'Tis thus the Poet's heart
Entombs desire,
And seals from life apart
Promethean fire.
Behind his well-turned phrase,
His studied lines,
Hidden as in a vase
His soul's soul pines.