Page:Songs of the Affections.pdf/107

Rh

Oh! that those lips had language!—Life hath pass'd With me but roughly since I saw thee last.

eyes are charm'd—thine earnest eyes— Thou image of the dead! A spell within their sweetness lies, A virtue thence is shed.

Oft in their meek blue light enshrined, A blessing seems to be, And sometimes there my wayward mind A still reproach can see: