She agreed not always with his views and
methods, but this diversity of mind never affected their mutual
respect and love.--[Ed.]]
LINES WRITTEN IN MARCH, 1836.
"I will not leave you comfortless."
O, Friend divine! this promise dear
Falls sweetly on the weary ear!
Often, in hours of sickening pain,
It soothes me to thy rest again.
Might I a true disciple be,
Following thy footsteps faithfully,
Then should I still the succor prove
Of him who gave his life for love.
When this fond heart would vainly beat
For bliss that ne'er on earth we meet,
For perfect sympathy of soul,
From those such heavy laws control;
When, roused from passion's ecstasy,
I see the dreams that filled it fly,
Amid my bitter tears and sighs
Those gentle words before me rise.
With aching brows and feverish brain
The founts of intellect I drain,
And con with over-anxious thought
What poets sung and heroes wrought.
Enchanted with their deeds and lays,
I with like gems would deck my days;
No fires creative in me burn,
And, humbled, I to Thee return;
When blackest clouds around me rolled
Of scepticism drear and cold,
When love, and hope, and joy and pride,
Forsook a spirit deeply tried;
My reason wavered in that hour,
Prayer, too impatient, lost its power;
From thy benignity a ray,
I caught, and found the perfect day.
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