Page:Poems Sigourney 1827.pdf/154

As toward this bower of bliss I drew, to greet
A friend who in my careless boyhood shared
Each healthful sport, each hour of studious toil,
With kindred emulation.—And I thought
After my wanderings in a foreign clime,
How sweet to rest as he hath, pleasantly
In such pure paradise, and watch the bloom
Of young affections.—Near that open door
Two cherub children gamboll'd.—One display'd
In such strong miniature the manly charms
Of my long-parted friend, that in my soul
Woke the warm pulses of remember'd joy.—
There was the same bold forehead, where disguise
Might never lurk,—the same full hazle eye
Melting, yet ardent.—
                                On with willing smile
He led his fairy sister, murmuring low
In varied tones of dovelike tenderness,
And sometimes o'er her lily form would bend
In infantine protection, with such grace,
That in my arms I clasped him, and exclaim'd
"Show me thy father."—
                                  —On a couch he lay.—
Who lay?—I dared not call him friend!—That wreck
Of nature's nobleness!—Had dire disease,
Or ruthless poverty thus changed a brow
Where beam'd bright fancy,—intellectual light,
And soaring dignity of soul?—Ah no!—
For then I would have join'd my face to his
And spoke of Heaven.—But Vice her hideous seal
Had stamp'd upon those features, and the mind,
The ethereal mind debased.—