And watch the southern cross through midnight calms,
And track the spicy woods. Yet more I bless’d
Thy vision of sweet love—kind, trustful, true,
Lighting the citron groves, a heavenly guest,
With such pure smiles as Paradise once knew.
Even then my young heart wept o’er this world’s power
To reach with blight that holiest Eden-flower.
A THOUGHT AT SUNSET.
Still that last look is solemn! though thy rays,
O sun! to-morrow will give back, we know,