To My Sister

Sister! dear sister, I am getting old:
My hair is thinner, and the cheerful light
That glisten'd in mine eyes is not as bright,
Though while on thee I look, 'tis never cold.
My hand is not so steady while I pen
These simple words to tell how warm and clear
Flows my heart's fountain toward thee,sister dear!
For years I 've lived among my fellow-men,
Shared their deep passions, known their griefs and joys,
And found Pride, Power, and Fame but gilded toys;
And, sailing far upon Ambition's waves,
Beheld brave mariners on a troubled sea,
Meet, what they fear'd not — shipwreck and their graves.
My spirit seeks its haven, dear, with thee!
TO
'T is Winter now — but Spring will blossom soon,
And flowers will lean to the embracing air —
And the young buds will vie with them to share
Each zephyr's soft caress; and when the Moon
Bends her new silver bow, as if to fling
Her arrowy lustre through some vapour's wing,
The streamlets will return the glance of night
From their pure, gliding mirrors, set by Spring
Deep in rich frames of clustering chrysolite,
Instead of Winter's crumbled sparks of white.
So, dearest! shall our loves, though frozen now
By cold unkindness, bloom like buds and flowers,
Like fountain's flash, for Hope with smiling brow
Tells of a Spring, whose sweets shall all be ours!
TO
Lady, farewell! my heart no more to thee
Bends like the Parsee to the dawning sun;
No more thy beauty lights the world for me,
Or tints with gold the moments as they run.
A cloud is on the landscape, and the beams
That made the valleys so divinely fair,
And scatter'd diamonds on the gliding streams,
And crown'd the mountains in their azure air —
Are veil'd forever! — Lady, fare thee well!
Sadly as one who longeth for a sound
To break the stillness of a deep profound,
I turn and strike my frail, poetic shell: —
Listen! it is the last; for thee alone
My heart no more shall wake its sorrowing tone.