Page:Poems Angier.djvu/192

And now, my bucket I would drop,
 In Truth's deep hidden well;
In hope to draw thence shining pearls,
 Whose worth no tongue can tell.

The wind's low moan, the insect's hum,
 Both say strange things to me;
In my Dove's face, I meaning trace,
 And something human see;
That speaks of tender yearning,
 Of love, no change can know;
Of heaven-born friendship, tried and true,
 And pure as spotless snow.

I question not deep mysteries,
 But leave them to the sage;
Content to read the simpler truths,
 Inscribed on Nature's page—
And from this gentle monitor,
 My timid, white-winged Dove;
I daily seek, by heart to learn,
 Life's holiest lesson—Love.