Ye whom I fondly loved! my dearest joys
Were treasured up in you;
And a bright store of cherish’d earthly bliss,
The future brought to view;
’Twas an illusive scene—that picture fair
Hope’s rainbow pencil drew;
Those Eden bowers have faded, and those walks
Where brightest flowers grew,
Now echo not the sound of lightsome steps;
Those flowers, pale and few,
Close up their faded petals mournfully,
Nor drink the balmy dew;
But I—I will no longer vainly droop
O’er such a scene as this;
For I am blest, ye happy shining ones!
In all your blessedness!
Ye were the idols of my secret heart,
Enshrined and worshiped there;
And I, well pleas’d with my dear household gods,
Found earth too bright and fair;
No cloud seem’d gathering in gloomy wrath,
To tell the storm was near;
It came, as comes the midnight lightning’s flash,
With sudden lurid glare;
And left as dark a night within the heart,
And chill’d the soul with fear;
Gone is the altar of my idol love,
No burning fires are there;
But I—I gaze where beams th’ eternal sun
Of bright celestial bliss;
For I rejoice, ye glorious shining ones!
In all your joyfulness!
CHARLESTON, June 20, 1840.