THE sainted spirit, which from bliss on high
Descends like dayspring to my favoured sight,
Shines in such noontide radiance of the sky,
Scarce do I know that form, intensely bright!
But with the sweetness of her well-known smile,
That smile of peace! she bids my doubts depart,
And takes my hand, and softly speaks the while,
And heaven's full glory pictures to my heart.
Beams of that heaven in her my eyes behold,
And now, e'en now, in thought my wings unfold,
To soar with her, and mingle with the blest!
But ah! so swift her buoyant pinion flies,
That I, in vain aspiring to the skies,
Fall to my native sphere, by earthly bonds deprest.