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Poem	Written on Returning a Blank Book Take back the virgin page, White and unwritten still; Some hand, more calm and sage, The leaf must fill. Thoughts come, as pure as light Pure as even you require; But, oh! each word I write Love turns to fire. Yet let me keep the book: Oft shall my heart renew, When on its leaves I look, Dear thoughts of you. Like you, 'tis fair and bright; Like you, too bright and fair To let wild passion write One wrong wish there. Haply, when from those eyes Far, far away I roam, Should calmer thoughts arise Towards you and home; Fancy may trace some line, Worthy those eyes to meet, Thoughts that not burn, but shine, Pure, calm, and sweet. And as, o'er ocean far, Seamen their records keep, Led by some hidden star Through the cold deep; So may the words I write Tell through what storms I stray -- You still the unseen light, Guiding my way.
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