TO A BEAUTIFUL GIRL.
Reading edition
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BY J. R. BARRICK.
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I do not love thee—yet my heart is filled
With a sweet spirit of the beautiful,
Whene’er I sit alone to muse upon
Thy dark eye beaming in a sea of light,
Thy cheek all flush with summer’s rosy glow,
Thy pure, high brow, so beautiful and calm,
O’er which the light and glory of thy thoughts
Beam like the tints of summer’s genial sky
Above a waveless lake—the low, sweet tones
Thy gentle voice breathes on the evening breeze—
Thy pure, high heart, the paradise of peace,
Where lovely flowers spring up in beauty wild,
And blossom into hope—where angels come
On missioned wings from their far homes in heaven,
To chant their Eden songs.
I love thee not
With the wild, wayward love of earth, and yet
If worship be that deep idolatry
The heathen pays in homage to the sun,
Then I have worshiped thee, for I have bowed
In passions deep and holy hour to thee,
And at thy shrine of beauty offered up
The tribute of affection.
I have mused
On Nature in her morning light, when first
The sun looks out upon a world of peace,
When the glad air was vocal with the songs
Of many warblers in their morning joy,
And thou wast there in all of sight and sound,
Thyself the spirit of the beautiful
In all to eye and ear. And I have gone
At evening ’mid the shadows of the wood
To view the glories of the bursting spring,
And hear the thousand sweet and joyous strains
That thrilled each warbler in his evening praise,
And thou wast there, thy beauty dearer far
Than aught in nature seen, and thy sweet voice,
Than all earth’s melodies. I’ve gazed upon
The sunset sky in its last glowing tint,
And felt the spirit of the twilight hour
Stealing upon the scene with potent spell,
Yet thou wast there, and in those happy hours
Thy spirit, like the rainbow o’er a cloud,
Was spanning o’er my bosom.
Thou hast been
A rainbow set above my wildest storm,
A star within my else all darkened sky,
A lovely flower beside my desert path,
A gentle spirit in my heart of hearts,
To bless me with its presence.
From the waves,
And from the winds, and from the gentle streams,
Thy voice hath caught a spell, whose lightest tone
Is very love and sweetness. From the stars,
And from the sky, and from the sunset hues,
That glow like spirits of the beautiful
Along the western world, thine eyes have caught
A brightness and a glory that outvie
The glowing dreams of fancy. From the heaven
From whence thou sprang all perfect at thy birth,
And from all love, and from all passion sweet,
From thought and sense, and from the wide green earth
And from the sky, and from the glorious stars,
Thy mind and heart have stolen their brightest tints,
Till they are but a mirror of the whole,
The sum end substance of all lovely things,
Thyself the Spirit of the Beautiful!