When other eyes may fling their gleams
Above my purple wine;
But little shall I heed the dreams
I once could read in thine.
Yet not the less soft—gentle—kind—
Thy presence has renewed
What long I thought was left behind,
Youth’s glad but softened mood.
Thy heart it is untouched and pure—
I wish it not for mine;
Too feverish and insecure
Would be such world-worn shrine.
For thou dost need such quiet home
As might befit the dove,
Where green leaves droop, and soft winds come,
Where peace attends on love.
I doubt if I shall gaze again
Upon that tranquil brow;
I turn to yonder glittering main,
Impatient for my prow.
Battle and revel, feast and fight,
Spread o’er life’s troubled sea:
Then where will be the calm delight
That here entranceth me?
When other names that are as sweet,
Perhaps have been more dear,
Shall make gay midnight moments fleet
Unlike the midnights here.
When they shall ask for pledge or song,
I shall not name thy name;
For other thoughts to them belong
Than at thy charming came.
Thy pensive influence only brought
The dreams of early years,
What childhood felt—what childhood thought—
Its tenderness—its tears!
Farewell! the wind sets from the shore,
The white foam lights the sea.
If Heaven one blessing have in store,
That blessing light on thee!
6
