Page:The Domestic Affections, and Other Poems.pdf/67



Perhaps, e'en now, thy kindling glance, Each orb of living fire explores; Darts o'er creation's wide expanse, Admires—adores!

Oh! if that lightning-eye surveys This dark and sublunary plain; How must the wreath of human praise, Fade, wither, vanish, in thy gaze, So dim, so pale, so vain!

How, like a faint and shadowy dream, Must quiver learning's brightest ray; While on thine eyes, with lucid stream, The sun of glory pours his beam, Perfection's day!