valentines.
115
O, find'st thou not that envied crown
A weary weight, and chilling?
Its lonely glory, is it not
An ice-touch, heartward thrilling?
A weary weight, and chilling?
Its lonely glory, is it not
An ice-touch, heartward thrilling?
Ah, no! e'en now a rosy light
Those vernal leaves is flushing;
O woman-hearted, love's warm buds
Are 'mid thy laurels blushing!
Those vernal leaves is flushing;
O woman-hearted, love's warm buds
Are 'mid thy laurels blushing!
TO MR. GILES.
A classic heaven of old thy soul,—
Song, grace, and fire divine;
But the heaven of a purer faith,
That Christian heart of thine.
Song, grace, and fire divine;
But the heaven of a purer faith,
That Christian heart of thine.
Thus he who walks beside thee
Hath what employ he chooses;
May worship with the Angels,
Or converse with the Muses.
Hath what employ he chooses;
May worship with the Angels,
Or converse with the Muses.
