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Never in earth or Heaven canst thou he loved As I have loved thee—never—never more By love so holy can thy soul be moved, Upon terrestrial or celestial shore. On thee alone my faithful spirit dwelt— To thee alone my restless Fancy soared— For thee alone before my God I knelt, And the libations of my full heart poured. Thy smiles, thy words, each feature of thy face, Thy step, as thou didst from me last depart— Thy mournful gait—thy form's majestic grace, Were caught and treasured in my doting heart, And there have lived through every varying mood, The soul and solace of my sainted solitude.

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Thy voice flows o'er my listening heart like sound
From fairy fount or lute in land of dreams,
And full thy loveliness upon me teems,
With thy bright presence lighting all around,
Until my pulses leap like rills unbound.
I see again thine eyes' effulgent beams;
I walk with thee along the laughing streams,
Through whispering grove — o'er flower-bespangled

And feel thy glowing touch my heart-strings thrill,
As I upon thy doting arm recline,
Listing thee speak from out thy spirit's shrine,
Love-freighted words, whose heavenly music still
Steals softly o'er my weary, thirsting soul,
Exerting o'er it aye a calni and sweet control.



I Bee again thy tall, majestic form,
E'en with the vividness of my first sight;
I see thine eyes, like stars amid the night
Of my deep woe—I feel thy heart beat warm
Against my heart—I feel thy tremulous arm
Inclasp my waist—and lip to lip impressed,
I feel the sweet flame kindling in my breast,
And stealing o'er my soul the fatal charm.—

O memory! thou art, alas 1 too true!
Too faithful to this desolate heart of mine,
Whose innermost recess is sorrow's shrine!

1 would forget the past—and seek anew
Some other votary—some alluring scene,—

But ever thy dear form, Adhemar, floats between. XIX.


Thy presence dwella around, above, below, On all things lovely and most beautiful, I hear thy voice in every fountain's flow— Behold thy smile on every flower I cull Along the hills, and vales, and gliding streams ;— I see thine eyes' soft hues in the blue heaven— Thy brow's bright radiance in the iris' beams— Thy mind in the calm pensiveness of even. The tuneful birds, the rills, the rustling trees— The beings of the air—the stars—the moon— All sounds, and tones, and stirring melodies— And aught with which my spirit doth commune In heaven, or earth, or space, or thought, to me Hold eloquent discourse, adored one, of thee.



I Think of thee till all is dim confusion, And Reason reels upon her fragile throne— The past and present blend in strange illusionThoughts, feelings, all commingle into one, As streams and rills into the ocean run, And my pale checks are drenched with a suffusion Of drops upheaved from lava-founts of woe; And while these burning tides my lids o'erflow, Impassioned Fancy to thy presence hies, And suns her in the radiance of thine eyes— At the pure well-spring of thy bosom sips, And feeds upon the nectar of thy lips, Then back, with gathered sweets, returns to me, As homeward comes at eve the honey-freighted bee.

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