Still pure and beautiful as when it took thee
To cross the Holy Land of Truth sublime!
So earnest thy Belief—to later age
The visions of thy childhood stayed to bless thee —
Though sorrow dimmed the lustre of life’s page,
And shadows deepened round—and pain opprest thee —
The Beauty of thy Being still caressed thee.
Still didst thou reverence thine early dream,
And woo fair Nature as thy loveliest bride; —
Still from thy Soul did Faith’s pure radiance stream,