Page:Poems Sigourney 1827.pdf/154

154 As toward this bower of bliss I drew, to greet A friend who in my careless boyhood shared Each healthful sport, each hour of studious toil, With kindred emulation.—And I thought After my wanderings in a foreign clime, How sweet to rest as he hath, pleasantly In such pure paradise, and watch the bloom Of young affections.—Near that open door Two cherub children gamboll'd.—One display'd In such strong miniature the manly charms Of my long-parted friend, that in my soul Woke the warm pulses of remember'd joy.— There was the same bold forehead, where disguise Might never lurk,—the same full hazle eye Melting, yet ardent.— On with willing smile He led his fairy sister, murmuring low In varied tones of dovelike tenderness, And sometimes o'er her lily form would bend In infantine protection, with such grace, That in my arms I clasped him, and exclaim'd "Show me thy father."— —On a couch he lay.— Who lay?—I dared not call him friend!—That wreck Of nature's nobleness!—Had dire disease, Or ruthless poverty thus changed a brow Where beam'd bright fancy,—intellectual light, And soaring dignity of soul?—Ah no!— For then I would have join'd my face to his And spoke of Heaven.—But Vice her hideous seal Had stamp'd upon those features, and the mind, The ethereal mind debased.—