Poems of Sentiment and Imagination/Madeline
MADELINE.
I never saw aught like to what thou art—
A spirit so peculiar in its mould,
With so much wildness, and with yet a part
Of all the softer beauties we behold:
So dark and still at times, thy spirit seeming
Like waters sheltered from the shining sun,
Hidden in the dim mantle of its dreaming,
As if it joyed all earthliness to shun;
And yet again, emerging from its dream
Thy soul shines forth, pellucid as the air;
And O so lovely and so bright, we deem
That mortal sprite could never be so fair!
Thy thoughts in their rare current stilly gliding
Glimmer so starrily through thy pure eyes,
Revealing glimpses of the heart's wealth hiding
Within their depths, gem-bedded like the skies.
Thy form seems moulded in thy soul's own grace—
Adapted to express each subtile thought—
So fair and lucid is thy lily face,
Thy motion with such witchery is fraught.
There is so much in every act of thine,
That tells thy soul keepeth an angel guard,
Their glorious wings do almost seem to shine
A heavenly halo round their lovely ward.
Alas! when I do gaze on thee, my spirit
Longeth for Paradise, and vaguely dreams,
Wondering if there itself will not inherit
Some of such brightness as around thee beams:
Surely the music, and the unfading flowers,
And forms of light that walk the courts of heaven,
Do fill thy visions in thy musing hours,
So that to thee their semblance has been given.