The yearning earth that folds it in its arms.
Not love her--Ah! dear heart, how utterly!

[_A pause_.

What if amid these spirit wanderings,
This so mysterious power can grant at will,--
What if the angels, smitten with her grace,
Woo'd her away for ever from my heart?
The dove came twice again unto the ark,
With messages of peace, and hope, and joy,
But the third time return'd not. She's my dove--
Oh! wing'd she ever from my longing heart,
The waters of my life would quick subside,
And leave me stranded on the shoals of Time.
What if God saw her hovering aloft,
And smiled her in amongst his cherubim?
What if the draught of bliss should, Lethe-like,
Blot me for ever from her memory,
So that she sought me never, never more?
Oblivion! take again this fearful power--
No more shall Fate be tempted with my wealth,
Lest covetous it rob me of my all.

[_A pause_.

And yet, these are but dreams, poor selfish fears,
That scum-like float and dim Love's limpid tide.
Shall I thus cage my bird from liberty,
And let it beat its life out on the bars,