To Emma

Amid those clouds of distant grey,
There shines at eve one lonely star,
To tell with sad and changeful ray,
What love, and joy, and beauty are.
Though pure and beautiful and bright,
'Tis the frail vision of the night.

And yet, should Death's long slumber steal,
And dim the radiance of thine eye,
Still would my heart thy presence feel —
To me, to me, thou could'st not die !
But oh ! thou livest in the light
All pure, and beautiful, and bright !

And should Love fade just like that star ?
Should its hue change at morn and eve ?
Ah ! no, its beams should shine afar,
Unchanged, on those who love and grieve,
Still pure, and beautiful, and bright,
Unlike that vision of the night.