The Urn of the Heart.
DEEP in my breast there is a sacred urn
I ever guard with holiest care, and keep
From the cold world's intrusion. It is filled
With dear and lovely treasures, that I prize
Above the gems that sparkle in the vales
Of Orient climes, or glitter in the crowns
Of sceptred kings.
I ever guard with holiest care, and keep
From the cold world's intrusion. It is filled
With dear and lovely treasures, that I prize
Above the gems that sparkle in the vales
Of Orient climes, or glitter in the crowns
Of sceptred kings.
The priceless wealth of life
Within that urn is gathered. All the bright
And lovely jewels that the years have dropped
Around me from their pinions, in their swift
And noiseless flight to old Eternity,
Are treasured there. A thousand buds and flowers,
Within that urn is gathered. All the bright
And lovely jewels that the years have dropped
Around me from their pinions, in their swift
And noiseless flight to old Eternity,
Are treasured there. A thousand buds and flowers,
