Stanzas to Lyra
Written at Fifteen Years Old.
The hour for love, in all its bliss,
In all its purity of truth,
Is, when time prints his earliest kiss
Upon the open brow of youth;—
When all the heart is on the sigh,
That love has never heav’d before;
When the soft language of the eye
Tells all the rising bosom’s core.
Yes, yes, my Lyra, love like mine,
Form’d in the orient dawn of day,10
That spark of ecstasy divine,
Time never, never can decay.
Yes, I may rove from flow’r to flow’r,
Yes, I may sip the roseate dew,
But still, believe me, ev’ry hour,
The heart will turn to love, and you!
Whene’er you mark man’s darken’d hue,—
Whene’er you hear him swear to prove,
For ever, to your beauties, true,
Believe him not!—he cannot love!20
But, when yon view the glance of shame,
But, when you catch the falt’ring tone
Of youth, first warm’d to passion’s flame,
Oh! that is love,—and love alone!