AGAIN thou comest like a star of brightness, — <br />As pure and tender, as serene and fair; <br />I bear thy tones of love, or joyous lightness! <br />I breathe thy presence like a balmy air! <br /> <br />They say that genius' sacred fount is gushing <br />Within thy soul of tenderness and truth; <br />That glory's sunlight even now is flushing <br />The still and dewy morning of thy youth. <br /> <br />Thou little dreamest that perchance above thee <br />Fame's envied chaplet trembles in the air, <br />While crowned with roses in the hearts that love thee, <br />While homage sweet is offered to thee there. <br /> <br />Thy soul is loveliest ere fashion round it <br />Her robe of cold and glittering thraldom flings, — <br />Ere worldly art, with gilded chains, hath bound it, <br />Ere brushed the gold-dust from its fairy wings.<br /><br />Grace Greenwood<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/valentine-to-helen-irving/
