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valentines.
For a fairy mirror the flower held up,—
He saw himself in her brimming cup.
He saw himself in her brimming cup.
My soul is like that flower to-night,
Watching thy pathway through the sky,
The heaven of genius, far and high,
And waiting for thy smile of light
To pierce the shades that compass her,
Thy meek and hidden worshipper,
To where, with incense-breath up-stealing,
And brimming o'er with the dew of feeling,
That soul-flower faintly mirrors thee,
Thou risen star of Poesy!
Watching thy pathway through the sky,
The heaven of genius, far and high,
And waiting for thy smile of light
To pierce the shades that compass her,
Thy meek and hidden worshipper,
To where, with incense-breath up-stealing,
And brimming o'er with the dew of feeling,
That soul-flower faintly mirrors thee,
Thou risen star of Poesy!
TO THE WIFE OF A POET.
O faithful friend! O gentle wife!
I know I may not add to-day
One drop unto thy "wine of life,"
Of love, or happiness, or pride;
I know 't is only mine to lay
One rose-leaf on the mantling tide.
I know I may not add to-day
One drop unto thy "wine of life,"
Of love, or happiness, or pride;
I know 't is only mine to lay
One rose-leaf on the mantling tide.
