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.'