TO F----.

Beloved! amid the earnest woes
That crowd around my earthly path --
(Drear path, alas! where grows

Not

even one lonely rose) --
My soul at least a solace hath

In dreams of thee, and therein knows
An Eden of bland repose.

And

thus thy memory is to me
Like some enchanted far-off isle

In some tumultuos sea --
Some ocean throbbing far and free
With storms -- but where meanwhile
Serenest skies continually
Just o're that one bright island smile.