PENT in this common sphere of sensual shows, I pine for beauty; beauty of fresh mien, And gentle utterance, and the charm serene, Wherewith the hue of mystic dream-land glows; But shows most ghastly by a new-made tomb. @3I@1 see no balm in Gilead; he is lost, The beautiful soul that loved thee, thy life's bloom, Is withered by the sudden blighting frost; O Grief! how mighty; Creeds! how vain ye are: Earth presses closely, -- Heaven is cold and far. |