Capítulo 22 de 67

TO F——.

Beloved! amid the earnest woes

That crowd around my earthly path—

(Drear path, alas! where grows

Not even one lonely rose)—

My soul at least a solace hath

In dreams of thee, and therein knows

An Eden of bland repose.

And thus thy memory is to me

Like some enchanted far-off isle

In some tumultuous sea—

Some ocean throbbing far and free

With storms—but where meanwhile

Serenest skies continually

Just o’er that one bright island smile.

1845.