To Laura

Mine ne'er to be, yet mine always; Laura, spirit of dawn. Darkest night Cannot hide thee nor obscure thy rays. Though Black Death hath by his temporal right Claimed thee, dost thou, my love , indwell this heart. Though Charon's hammer this clay vessel break, The winds ne 'er scathed by Time's envenomed dart Shall of its pure content aye possession take And spread abroad thy fragrance to all Man, Fill the valleys and linger o'er the seas. 'Tis not my part all future times to scan, But thankfully to muse by pastures, groves and leas, Await thy returning, nightly count the hours "Till I rejoice with singing birds and flowers."