He’d kindly lead me to the realm
  Where joyous freedom reigns,
He’d teach my soul love’s sweet control,
  Then claim it for his pains. 
                                        REVENITA.

TO REVENITA

Ah!  Reyenita, do not charge
  To selfishness thy teacher’s plea,
He seeks thine every wish to bless,
  His deepest fault is loving thee. 
“Heaven’s kingdom,” said the Nazerene,
“Is in the heart;” sweet fairy queen
 Thou rulest along this realm of mine,
 Canst say I have no place in thine? 
          
                                Sanson.

TO SANSON

They boast of Ormuz’s milk-white pearls,
  The ruby’s magic art,
And proudly wear the crystal drop
  That fires the diamond’s heart.

And these may admiration claim,
  And countless wealth may sway,
But rarer gem was given to me,
  One golden summer day.

Its wondrous tints, a brilliant glow,
  Emit in darkest gloom,
A sweeter fragrance ’round it clings,
  Than breath of eastern bloom.

Were all earth’s costly jewels thrown
  In one great glittering heap,
They could not buy for ev’n a day
  The gem I’d selfish keep.

Yet ’twas not won from pearly depths,
  Nor gleaned from diamond mine,
Nor all the chemist’s subtlety
  Its substance could define.

It ne’er was set in band of fold
  Some dainty hand to grace,
Ne’er shone in diadem to deck
  A brow of kingly race.

For me alone, a wizard spell
  Lies prisoned in its beams,
Hours of enchanted ecstacy
  And days of Eden dreams.

Wouldst know the precious gift with which
  For worlds I would not part? 
The priceless jewel is they love,
  Its setting is my heart. 
                                        REVENITA.

TO REVENITA

Oh, in the hush of midnight’s hour,
  When darkness sleeps on land and sea,
How oft in dreams, sweet fragile flower,
  Thou’st come to bless and comfort me.

O, in the hush of midnight’s hour,
  How oft from taunting dreams I start,
To find thee but a fancy flower—­
  Thou cherished idol of my heart. 
          
                                Sanson.

TO SANSON

I’ve a beautiful home, where I live in my dreams,
So joyous and happy—­an Eden it seems;
All beautiful things in nature and are
Are blending to rapture the mind and the heart;
No discords to jar, no dissensions arise,
’Tis calm as Italia’s ever blue skies,
When kissed by the bright rosy blush of the morn;
And a voice of the spheres on the breezes is borne,
Soft as the murmur of sea-tinted shells,
Sweet as the chiming of far away bells;
And grief cannot enter, nor trouble nor care,
And the proud peerless prince of my soul, he is there.