Constancy.
The Fates have decreed thou canst never be mine,
Yet, constant, my soul turneth ever to thine
With love that outreaches Time’s cruel decree.
Too holy the passion with others to name—
Thoughts deepest and purest feed ever the flame,
That burns on the altar, kept sacred to thee.
As ocean in silence embosoms the light
That beams from the gems in the crown of the night,
Yet dimming its purity never,
So thou, in my bosom a presence shalt be,
As stars shining down in the depths of the sea—
Unsullied thy brightness forever.
Like a verdure-girt spring in the wide desert plains—
Like the stroke, bringing freedom, by the riving of chains,
Aye, Life’s every essence of pleasure
Had been love’s requital, that long ago morn;
Still ever I’ll count, (yet this rose has its thorn)
Having loved, though I lost, as a treasure.
* * * * *
Tho’ hopes were all blighted that haloed my youth,
And withered the flowers I deemed rooted in truth,—
Tho’ sunshine will brighten no morrow,
Yet never accusing’s deep bitterness stirs
The heart, that would only pour joy into her’s,
And the tenderest soothing for sorrow.
Her spirit dwelt ever in dreamy ideal,
While mine was so earthy and chained to the real,
With the heavens all brazen above me:—
All nature to hers echoed hymnings divine,
While doubts of a future, stirred ever in mine—
No marvel she never could love me.
But somehow, with Destiny’s mystical skein,
My love has entangled my infidel brain
And bound it with hope, to a heaven;
I dream of a sphere, we may find beyond this
Where—blessed fruition! life’s coveted bliss
To the purified soul will be given.