Born in the hours of loneliness: and you,
Ye childlike thoughts! the holy and the true—
Ye that came bearing, while subdued I lay,
The faith, the insight of life’s vernal morn
Back on my soul, a clear, bright sense, new-born,
Now leave me not! but as, profoundly pure,
A blue stream rushes through a darker lake
Unchanged, e’en thus with me your journey take,
Wafting sweet airs of heaven thro’ this low world obscure.
[442] Written under the false impression occasioned by a temporary improvement in strength.