Thomas Buchanan Read (1822–1872)

THOUGH others know thee by a fonder name,

I, in my heart, have christened thee anew;

And though thy beauty in its native hue,

Shedding the radiance of whence it came,

May not bequeath to language its high claim,

Thy smiling presence, like an angel’s wing,

Fans all my soul of poesy to flame,

Till even in remembering I must sing.

Such led the grand old Tuscan’s longing eyes

Through all the crystal rounds of Paradise;

And, in my spirit’s farthest journeying,

Thy smile of courage leads me up the skies,

Through realms of song, of beauty, and of bliss;

And therefore have I named thee Beatrice!