H.

COME, dearest, to my heart. My soul and thine

A strange, ethereal, soft attraction feel:

Where’er I rove, my thoughts to thee incline;

Whate’er my purpose, still to thee I steal;

If in the temple to my God I kneel,

My prayers for pardon blend with prayers for thee;

If on my senses slumber sets her seal,

My dreaming spirit seeks thee, wild and free;

If in each other’s presence blessed we stand,

Nearer and nearer still with smiles we move,

Soul melts with soul, as hand is joined in hand,

And throb and thrill attest the loadstar, love,—

Bright, burning mystery! unknown to art,

But ever gently thus attracting heart to heart.