Poems (Charlotte Allen)/A Thought

by Charlotte Allen

For works with similar titles, see A Thought.

A THOUGHT.

It comes to me at morning's hour,
With all its sweet and magic power,
      To soothe my heart;
And often through the day I find,
The vision ling'ring in my mind,
      With mystic art.

At pensive twilight's lovely shade,
Devoid of all external aid,
      It doth arise,—
Bringing before my mental view,
A picture that my fancy drew,
      Though dim it lies.

It comes at soft and dewy eve,
Its gentle influence to weave
      Around my soul;
And if I waken in the night,
'T is still before me fresh and bright,
      With full control.

Though but a thought, it hath the power,
To cast a gladness o'er each hour,
      "To calm and cheer;"
E'en should the vision prove untrue,
It gives my soul a brighter hue,
      While resting here.

Then stay, sweet vision, linger yet,
I'll bless the hour when first we met,
      And claim thee mine;
But should'st thou ever truant prove,
Oh, never would my spirit move
      Again to thine.