Page:Poems of Sentiment and Imagination.djvu/150

146 The empty words of flattery. I am but

The simple child of nature; have not known

Aught of man's wisdom save that gleaned from books,

Such as my father reads; but I have felt

That I was happier in my wild retreat

Than shining with the glitter of the world

I've witnessed from afar; whose noisy voice

Frightens me into silence, and whose breath

Would scorch my brain with fever; for the heart

Beareth not many such unwilling lessons

As I have grieved to glean from thy vague hints—

Too definite for my happiness. But I

Perhaps should thank thee for advice, which now

My heart is too much hurt and sorrowing

To value as it ought. I will retire,

And weep the bitter tears that flood my eyes,

And then I may be happier again.

Her. I should have known her better than to throw

Reproach upon her actions. The young heart,

Finding itself mistaken in its trust,

Grows suddenly strong; and all its softness

Is petrified to marble. I must be

Regardful in the future, and not wound

Her sensitive spirit with too stern a view

Of the world's imperfections. This is strange—

That with her native doubt of human truth,

She still is so much pained by finding out

More than she had suspected. But this youth!

Why do I fear that she shall learn of him

To feel delight in love and confidence?

By his fine forehead, and his placid mouth,

And by the lines upon his handsome face,

I should pronounce him noble in his nature—

Gentle and just; and such I think he is;

Yet do I wish Azlea may never learn

To estimate his virtues as they are.

I would have her ever as she is—