Till, thrill'd with exquisite sensation,
My very heart would weep.

Yet, dearer lives in my remembrance
One autumn day, that briefly fled,

Than all those months whose beauteous semblance

Thy presence gave the charm elysian

To all that breathed around me there;

And memory of it fills the vision

With hours for ever fair.

Then, though exchanged the blest creation
For tumult and the world's alloy,

Thy presence still, in every station,
Makes all my sum of joy.

No fond regrets nor vagrant fancies
Shall from my bosom draw a sigh,

For scenery which the soul entrances,

,

while thou art by.

And oh, that day, where'er its brightness

On wilderness or city shine,

My heart shall welcome in with lightness, My Love, while thou art mine.

1816.

ABSENCE.

Do I not love thee? Yes, how well,
Thou best, thou only, Love, canst tell:
For other eyes have never seen

How much a look of mine can mean;

Nor other lips than thine can guess

How deep the feeling mine express.
But thee both eyes and lips have told,
Most truly, that I am not cold.

Yet now, in absence, all thou art,
Rushes afresh upon my heart,

And makes me feel that heart not yet

Has ever half discharged its debt.

For Memory, as to mock me, brings
A crowd of half-forgotten things
That Love before had scarcely leisure
To think upon, for present pleasure;
Reproaching me with virtues slighted,
And deeds of kindness unrequited:
While shadowy, awful, undefined,
The Future rises to my mind,

And as its depths my thoughts explore,

I seem to feel thine absence more.

Shuddering I strive to pierce its shade,
By Love a very coward made;
Then turn to meet thy smile. But thou
Art distant-future-shadowy now.

Oh, art thou still a breathing form,
Lovely, and tangible, and warm?

So parted utterly we seem,

As though the past were all a dream;
And thou, as if unearthly, Dearest,
A hallow'd, saintly thing appearest :
So long from sight and touch estranged,
I almost dread to meet thee changed.

Oh, say, do wayward thoughts like these,

Tender regrets, wild phantasies,

And vague misgivings, ever find

Unbidden entrance to thy mind?

Oh, it would absence half repay,

To know my spirit held such sway
O'er thine, as that thou couldst not be,

Nor feel thyself, apart from me.

But absence cannot be repaid:

Fast, fast, the fleeting moments fade,

That make

up life's allotted sum,

Brief and uncertain all to come.

Then let us not consume apart

The youth and spring-time of the heart.
Enough has absence proved thy power:

Return, and I will bless the hour

That tells me all my fears were vain,
And gives me back my home again.

1818.

ON THE DEATH OF AN INFANT SON.

[C. J. C. ob. Jan. 1818.]

WHEN I can trust my all with God,

In trial's fearful hour,

Bow all resign'd beneath his rod,

And bless his sparing power,

A joy springs up amid distress,

A fountain in the wilderness.