I nurse and soothe it in the strife,
Screen from the bleakest airs of life,
And bring it all that once you knew,
As kind, as timid, and as true!

But how could I so foolish be,
As not to feel a doubt of thee?--
This joy to find me still the same
Takes from my lip the power to blame;
Else, but forgive me, else I find
A mist has stolen o'er thy mind,
And veil'd my prospect; dimm'd that light
Which once was warm, and clear, and bright.




XI.

TO THE SAME.


Go forth, my voice, through the wild air,
In the lone stillness of the night,
Beneath the cold moon's pale blue light;
Seek Eugenia, and declare,
As warmth and promise lurk below
A waste of lifeless, drifted snow;

So, while my lips inertly move,