Thou hast but seen what but mine eyes have shown —
Mine eyes that gazing on thee picture Heaven;
Thou hast but heard what but my voice hath given —
My voice that takes from thine a calmer tone.
Ah! couldst thou know all that my heart hath known,
While with Despair's dark phantoms it hath striven —
From faith to doubt, from joy to sorrow driven,
Till rescued and redeemed by Love alone,—
Thou wouldst not marvel were my cloudless brow
O'er-clouded, were my aspect less serene!
Love smiles on Death, unveils his mystery
Of joy and grief, and Love bids me avow
This truth, with chastened heart and tranquil mien,—
‘ Less pure Love's bliss if less Love's agony.’