O friend, whom glad or grave we seek, Heav'n-holding shrine! I ope thee, touch thee, hear thee speak, And peace is mine. No fairy casket full of bliss, Out-values thee: Love only, waken'd with a kiss, More sweet may be. To thee, when our full hearts o'erflow In griefs or joys, Unspeakable emotions owe A fitting voice: Mirth flies to thee, and Love's unrest, And Memory dear. And Sorrow, with his tighten'd breast, Comes for a tear. Oh since few joys of human mould Thus wait us still, Thrice bless'd be thine, thou gentle fold Of peace at will. No change, no sullenness, no cheat, In thee we find; Thy saddest voice is ever sweet, — Thine answer, kind. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AN ORIGINAL THOUGHT by MARIA ABDY CITY AND VILLAGE by ALEXANDER ANDERSON THE BALLADE OF THE GOLDEN HORN by LEONARD BACON (1887-1954) THE KNIGHT AND THE LADY; DOMESTIC LEGEND OF THE REIGN OF QUEEN ANNE by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM |