To Mrs. ----

Oh lady! thou, who in the olden time     Hadst been the star of many a poet's dream!     Thou, who unto a mind of mould sublime,     Weddest the gentle graces that beseem     Fair woman's best! forgive the darling line     That falters forth thy praise! nor let thine eye     Glance o'er the vain attempt too scornfully;     But, as thou read'st, think what a love was mine,     That made me venture on a theme, that none     Can know thee, and not feel a hopeless one.     Thou art most fair, though sorrow's chastening wing     Hath past, and left its shadow on thy brow,     And solemn thoughts are gently mellowing     The splendour of thy beauty's summer now.     Thou art most fair! but thine is loveliness     That dwells not only on the lip, or eye;     Thy beauty, is thy pure heart's holiness;     Thy grace, thy lofty spirit's majesty.     While thus I gaze on thee, and watch thee glide,     Like some calm spirit o'er life's troubled stream,     With thy twin buds of beauty by thy side     Together blossoming; I almost deem     That I behold the loveliness and truth,     That like fair visions hovered round my youth,     Long sought - and then forgotten as a dream.