Page:Troubadour.pdf/199

Rh

And almost deem'd that earth To such had never given birth As the fair creatures, who, like light, Floated upon his dazzled sight:— One with her bright and burning cheek, All passion, tremulous and weak, A woman in her woman's sphere Of joy and grief, of hope and fear. The other, whose mild tenderness Seem'd as less made to share than bless; One to whom human joy was such That her heart fear'd to trust too much, While her wan brow seem'd as it meant To soften rapture to content;— To whom all earth's delight was food For high and holy gratitude.