SONNETS.
Reading edition
———
BY HENRY B. HIRST.
———
GERTRUDE.
There is a sweet expression in thy face,
My gentle one! leading the thoughts away
From earthliness, and this vile orb of clay,—
Bidding my spirit in its yearnings trace
Something immortal in the beauties there!
I do not worship loveliness—but look
On woman’s face, as on a speaking book,
Where God hath stamped his image clear and fair!
And thine is one so radiant of him,
So calm and pure, one cannot fail to see
Such purity of soul portrayed in thee,
That other faces by thy side grow dim,
And, bowing down unto thy brighter worth,
I deem thee one too fair and chaste for earth!
IANTHE.
High thoughts are chiseled on that lofty brow!
Proud consciousness of virtue in thy smile!
Thy cheeks, the blush of, speaks thee free from guile;
Thine eyes have in their spiritual flow,
A dignity and grandeur, and a glow
Which lift the gazer’s spirit up on high,
As soars the eagle to the sun-lit sky!
Thou art a thing to worship! and I throw
My soaring spirit conquered at thy feet,—
But not to beauty, tho’ ’tis unsurpassed,
But to the wealth of intellect ’tis cast;
Deeming the earth beneath the proudest seat,
Where I would sit, and on perfection gaze,
Sunning my soul beneath thine eyes’ soft rays!