Page:Poems of Sentiment and Imagination.djvu/181

---

I left the crowded halls, whose beings rare
But made me sigh for my own perfect bride.
Then in each lovely clime I wandered long,
With thoughts to meet her in some land of flowers—
Perchance, in 'Italy's bright land of song,'
Or 'neath the starry blossoms of Spain's bowers.

"I never wandered where the skies were bright,
Or where the roses seemed to be more fair.
Nor stood where ruined fanes rose on the sight;
Nor thrilled to gaze upon some sunset rare.
Nor climbed to some sublime or dizzy height.
Nor marked a river rolling in its pride,
Nor mused on the still splendor of the night.
But that I wished thee, sweet one, at my side.

"Three years stole down into my spirit's halls,
Bringing rich jewels on their flowing dress.
And made them there a home, whose pictured walls
Glowed with the rarest tints of loveliness.
Soft skies, and tinted clouds, and golden air,
And shadowy haunts, and dimpled waves of light,
And scenes of deep sublimity were there,
Mingled with broken gleams of all things bright.

"And that one image! but its counterpart
I sought for vainly in each sunny spot;
Yet with a deeper feeling my wild heart
Clung to the thought that would not be forgot.
Then homeward to my own sweet land I turned—
Blessed be the stars that light it from above!
Blessed every heart which ever toward it yearned.
For here I met thee, sweet spirit-love!

"And when I saw thee, heard thee, clasped thee first—
Held thee, thyself, unto my thrilling breast,
The wild delirium of joy that burst
Upon my soul, words never have expressed!