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THE IMAGE IN THE HEART.
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In all time brings of sudden, dark, or strange,
To sweep the still transparent peace away
From its hush'd air!
And oh! that glorious image of the dead!
Sole thing whereon a deathless love may rest,
And in deep faith and dreamy worship shed
Its high gifts fearlessly!—I call thee blest,
If only there!
Blest, for the beautiful within thee dwelling,
Never to fade!—a refuge from distrust,
A spring of purer life, still freshly welling,
To clothe the barrenness of earthly dust
With flowers divine.
And thou hast been beloved!—it is no dream,
No false mirage for thee, the fervent love,
The rainbow still unreach'd, the ideal gleam,
That ever seems before, beyond, above,
Far off to shine.
