LINES TO AN IDEAL.

I wandered on the lonely strand, A setting sun shone brightly there, And bathed in glory sea and land, And streamed in beauty through the air! A playful breeze the waters curled, Touched their light waves and passed them by, Then fanned a bird whose wings unfurled Were waving on the sunset sky! The bird had gone. The sun had set. His beams still tipped the hills and trees, And flung a rainbow radiance yet On clouds reflected in the seas! A distant boatman plied the oar, All sparkling with its golden spray, His voice came softened to the shore, Then melted with the dying day! And when the last bright lines on high Departed as the twilight came, A large star showed its lone, sweet eye All margined with a cloud of flame! The winds were hushed. Their latest breath In soft, low murmurs died afar— The rippling of the wave beneath Showed dancing there that one bright star! So fair a scene, so sweet an hour, Were felt and passed. In stilly calm They shed around me beauty's power, Yet gave no peace, and brought no balm. I was alone! I saw no eyes With mine gaze on the twilight sea— No heart returned my lonely sighs— No lips breathed sympathy with me. I was alone! I looked above. That star seemed happy thus to lave Its fairy light and glance of love Deep in the bosom of the wave. I gazed no more! The blinding tear Rose from my heart, and dimmed my sight. Had one dear voice then whispered near, That scene how changed!—That heart how light! My soul was swelling like the sea! Had thine eyes gleamed there with mine own, That soul a mirror true to thee On ev'ry wave thyself had shown!