Poems (Taggart)/To a Lady
For works with similar titles, see To a Lady.
TO A LADY.1834.
What sweetness, gentleness, what love In that calm face appears,And lofty thought, that soars above This darksome vale of tears!
On thy blest soul, refined and pure, What heavenly beauties rise!And, with sublime attraction, lure Thy spirit to the skies.
O blessed friend, supremely blest,— What sacred joys are thine,Of nature's noblest gifts possessed And crowned with grace divine!
O will that gentle spirit deign To think on one forlorn,Whose soul the bitterness of pain Through hopeless years hath borne?
O may this stricken child of grief Still claim thee for a friend?That thought a balmy, blest relief With sorrows deep shall blend.
Thy sympathizing accents oft, In the lone hours of night, I seem again to hear, and soft On the worn sense they light.
Thy pitying tenderness relieves My sorrowing heart e'en now,When gentle sleep in anguish leaves My thought-distended brow.
But ne'er can this tried soul reveal, Till life's sad course be run,The bitterness, the woes I feel:— Yet all is known to One.
Yes, and in His appointed hour He will each grief remove:Oh may I trust His sovereign power, And His sustaining love.
And may'st thou ever still be blest,— And still those powers employ,To give the wearied spirit rest, And guide to future joy.
O may thy earthly course be peace,— Life's purer joys be thine,Till its last flickering pulse shall cease, In ecstasy divine.
Then will thy ransomed spirit rise To glorious realms above,And gain its mansion in the skies, Rapt in redeeming love.