George Henry Boker (1823–1890)

LOVE is that orbit of the restless soul

Whose circle grazes the confines of space,

Bounding within the limits of its race

Utmost extremes; whose high and topmost pole

Within the very blaze of heaven doth roll;

Whose nether course is through the darkest place

Eclipsed by hell. What daring hand shall trace

The blended joys and sorrows that control

A heart whose journeys the fixed hand of Fate

Points through this pathway? Who may soar so high,—

Behold such glories with unwinking eye?

Who drop so low beneath his mortal state,

And thence return with careful chart and date,

To mark which way another’s course must lie?