96
THE VOW OF THE PEACOCK.
Thy heart was as a home and shrine,
Familiar, and yet sacred too.
How often have I watched the spot
On which thy step had only moved;
My memory remembers not
The hour when thou wert not beloved.
I never had a grief or care
I sought not from thine eyes to hide:
In joy I said, "Ah! would he were
My pleasure sharing at my side."
I bent above each old romance,
And seemed to read thy history there;
I saw, in each brave knight, thy glance
Distinct upon the kindled air.
