And so I felt—and Laura beamed
Still lovelier than she ever seemed,
E’en when the dew of childhood’s hours
Along her heart’s first blossoms clung,
And I amid my native bowers
In sinless worship o’er them hung.
Oh! are not feelings such as these
Like splendid rainbow-glories caught
(To cheer our voyage o’er life’s seas)
From Heaven’s own holy Land of Thought?