I loved thy beauty as a gleam
Of a sweet soul by beauty nursed,
But the strange splendor of that dream
All other loves and hopes has cursed—
One ray of the serenest star
Is dearer than all diamonds are.
Yet would I give my love of thee,
If thus of thee I had not dreamed,
Nor known that in thine eyes might be
What never on my waking gleamed,
For Night had then not swept away
The possibilities of Day.
For had my love of thee been less,
Still of my life thou hadst been queen,
And that imperial loveliness
Hinted by thee I had not seen;
Yet proudly shall that love expire
The spark of dawn in morning's fire.
How was it that we loved so well,
From love's excess to such sweet woe,
Such bitter honey—for will swell
Across my grief that visioned glow
Which steals the soul of grief away
As sunlight soothes a wintry day.
And so we part, who are to each
The only one the earth can give.
How vainly words will strive to reach
Why we together may not live,
When barely thought can learn to know
The depth of this sublimest woe.
XXXV
CONCORD, June 29, '46.
My dear Friend,—I had hoped that you would have come to Concord yesterday, because to-morrow early I leave, and shall be here only one day more, towards the close of the next week. I had not expected to have gone so soon, but I shall accompany a sick friend to Saratoga by slow stages, and, returning to Worcester, make a short visit among my kindred there, and then return to Concord to take my final departure. I shall try to secure some day about that time to come to Brook Farm, if only to say farewell to you; but just now I cannot specify the day.
My trip to Monadnock was very beautiful. The minister, Jno. Brown, is the same Brook Farmer in a black coat; and I enjoyed a few days at his house exceedingly. I wrote a long journal while there, and cannot say anything about it here, therefore.
This afternoon I have answered Isaac's letter which I received during the winter. With great modesty I attempted to show him how, in the nature of things, proselyting was hopeless, at least upon any who are really worth converting. But the tone, like my feeling, was friendly and gentle. If it does not change his course towards me, he will better understand my feeling and position, for I told him that in men of his nature and tendency the zeal of proselytism is a part of the fervor of sentiment, and therefore I expected and willingly accepted his exhortations, and only deplored them as a loss of time and misuse of opportunities of communication. The Roman Church was such an unavoidable goal for Isaac that one who knows him well cannot possibly grieve to see him prostrate before the altar, and ought to understand and anticipate what was called his arrogance, which is a necessary portion of the sentiment and position.