Till, thrill'd with exquisite sensation, Yet, dearer lives in my remembrance 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 Thy presence still, in every station, No fond regrets nor vagrant fancies 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, How much a look of mine can mean; Nor other lips than thine can guess How deep the feeling mine express. Yet now, in absence, all thou art, And makes me feel that heart not yet Has ever half discharged its debt. For Memory, as to mock me, brings And as its depths my thoughts explore, I seem to feel thine absence more. Shuddering I strive to pierce its shade, Oh, art thou still a breathing form, So parted utterly we seem, As though the past were all a dream; 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 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. Return, and I will bless the hour That tells me all my fears were vain, 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. |