From the full, bending flower—
To watch her pensive glances meekly rise
In hallowed transport to the arching skies,
The seraph sounds pursuing in their flight—
Then softly bend to earth, with fondness beaming,
While from the downcast lids the soul is gleaming,
Like trembling fires at night—
To mark on her fair brow the shade of thought,
Words failing to the lips with awe o’erfraught—
And mid the silence deep at length to hear