O! never did thy glowing pen bestow,
To sooth my soul's inevitable woe,
So much, by generous, trusting Faith inspir'd,
So much, by ardent, banish'd Love desir'd,
Free from the cold alloy of doubts, and fears,
And all the fullying drops of jealous tears,
Since first our eyes the conscious glances cast,
That met,-dissolv'd,-and blended, as they pass'd.
The precious tenderness these lines impart
Falls on my sick, alarm'd, and longing heart,
Like dews on flowers by sultry noon-beams dry,
Like balmy sleep on Labor's closing eye.
But this long absence!-countless are its pains,
Sprung from the thought how fast our Being wanes;
How short its span !—that weeks and months must roll
On towards Existence' dark and final goal,
Ere Time the ravish'd happiness restores
To pass together some of those few hours,
Forming the short, irrevocable day,
That stays for, none, and fleets so swift away.