To Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton, Bart.
MY cousin, I have never seen thee—yet
From childhood's early years my dearest thoughts
Have been so full of thee, I almost seem
To know thee well. From thy high soul, my soul
Has caught its inspiration. I have felt
My spirit rise exulting with thine own,
To share the blessed sunbeam and the breeze.
But when, in thy proud majesty of strength,
Thou hast sprung upward to the skies to ride
At will on passion's maddening storm of fire,
My young heart, faint and weak with its excess
Of voiceless adoration, has sunk down
From childhood's early years my dearest thoughts
Have been so full of thee, I almost seem
To know thee well. From thy high soul, my soul
Has caught its inspiration. I have felt
My spirit rise exulting with thine own,
To share the blessed sunbeam and the breeze.
But when, in thy proud majesty of strength,
Thou hast sprung upward to the skies to ride
At will on passion's maddening storm of fire,
My young heart, faint and weak with its excess
Of voiceless adoration, has sunk down
