Page:Ambarvalia - Clough (1849).djvu/63

 Her eye's young glance: the fickle chance That joined us, yet may join again; But I no face again could greet As her's, whose life was in me then.

As unsuspecting mere a maid As, fresh in maidhood's bloomiest bloom, In casual second-class did e'er By casual youth her seat assume; Or vestal, say, of saintliest clay, For once by balmiest airs betrayed Unto emotions too too sweet To be unlingeringly gainsaid:

Unowning then, confusing soon With dreamier dreams that o'er the glass Of shyly ripening woman-sense Reflected, scarce reflected, pass, A wife may-be, a mother she In Hymen's shrine recals not now, She first in hour, ah, not profane, With me to Hymen learnt to bow.

Ah no!—Yet owned we, fused in one, The Power which e'en in stones and earths By blind elections felt, in forms Organic breeds to myriad births;