To Agatha.

Lady !  when summer’s fondest smiles are shed1
On all that lives beneath their cheering ray,2
We fondly deem those smiles from heaven stray3
To tell of love, in that blest region bred.4
And I have thought the smiles of those blue eyes5
Told of the love concealed within thy breast :6
Yes ! on so slight a dream my hopes still rest !7
Could I but join the fairy train that flies8
Athwart thy brow, when, in sweet reverie,9
Thou paint’st a joyous future, where is seen10
Thine heart’s best idol, then—then might I glean11
The secret of thy soul, and haply see12
All Fancy weaves, when on that brow I trace13
Those smiles, nor weal nor woe from memory
shall efface.