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Imagination, hope, and purpose high;
Now that with quickened heart-throbs thou dost mark
His manly form and mien; whene'er thou wilt,
Dost find in him companionship, his arm
Thy strong support; his words a daily joy;
Thy mother's heart exults, nor would exchange
Its deep, deep bliss for Ophir's glittering heaps,
Or widest fame 'mid noisy contests won.
Thy woman's nature rests with full content
In these thy household treasures—asks no more.

  How beautiful art thou, O Youth! Not lost
As yet in thee the sweetness and the grace
Of childhood left behind; but, richer far,
Thou wearest graces that are all thine own.
More full the sympathies that warm thy breast;
Thy thought more searching; keener far thy ken—
The vision of the soul athirst to know
Where hides true wisdom; larger thy desires
Far wandering, like the wanton summer winds
That rove o'er regions wide and dalliance hold