Poems (Truesdell)/An Invocation

by Helen Truesdell

For works with similar titles, see An Invocation.

AN INVOCATION.

"Thou hast all too much unrest,
 Haunted by vain hopes and fears;
Though thy cheek with smiles he drest,
 Yet that cheek is wet with tears."—L. E. L.

Bind me not, gentle spirit!
 With thy silken cords so soft;
All thy charms are but illusions,
 For thou hast deceived so oft!

Once I bowed with adoration
 At a fair and gentle shrine,—
Loved with wild impassioned fondness,
 Dreaming not of shame or crime.

But the blissful trance soon ended,
 Soon I from my dream awoke,
Like the strong man bound in fetters,
 Bending 'neath a heavy yoke.

Time passed on, and hope's sweet visions
 Clustered once more round my home,
Tempting me to scenes of gladness,
 Bidding me from grief to roam.

Now, exulting in my freedom,
 Like a bird of fearless wing,
I can carol in my gladness,
 Songs before I could not sing.

Then bind me not, O gentle spirit!
 In thy silken chains so sweet,—
They may do for happier spirits,
 But for mine they 're all unmeet.