Then dost thou come, a gentle comforter,
Tenderly binding up the broken heart.—
Celestial thy first dawning! it is like
The Morn awakening the smiling Hours,
Calling the flowers from their fragrant dreams,
And breathing melody and perfume around.
So does thy influence brighten on the soul,
Waking it to a new enchanted world,
Where every thought is gladness.
Never yet
Hath love dwelt in a lovelier temple than
That youthful maiden's form: she had now reach'd
Youth's fairest season, when the opening flower
Is just between the green bud and full rose.
There was a melancholy beauty in
The deep blue of her eyes;—'twas sad, yet soft,
Melting in tenderness 'neath the dark lash
That curtain'd its mild splendor; ev'ry glance
Bespoke a spirit wild and fanciful,—
