Opening Passage
No man e’er loved like me ! When but a boy
Love was my solace and my only joy;
Its mystic influence fired my tender soul,
And held me captive in its soft control.
By night it ruled in bright ethereal dreams,
By day in latent, ever-varying themes;
In solitude, or ‘mid the city’s throng,
Or in the festal halls of mirth and song;
Through loss or gain, through quietude or strife.
This was the charm the heart-pulse of my life,
While age has not subdued the flame divine,
A votary still I worship at the shrine.
When cares enthral, or when the soul is free,
‘Tis all the same. No man e’er loved like me!
Oh! she was young who won my yielding heart.
Nor power of poesy, nor painter’s art
Could half the beauties of her mind portray.
E’en when inspired, and how can this my lay?
Two eyes that spoke what language ne’er can do,
Soft as twin violets moist with early dew;
And on her cheek the lily and the rose
Blent beauteously in halcyon repose;
While vermil lips, apart, revealed within
Two rows of pearls, and on her dimpled chin
The Graces smiled; a bosom heaved below.
Warm as the sun, but pure as forest snow.
Her copious ringlets hung in silken trains
O’er alabaster streaked with purpling veins;
Her pencilled eyebrows, arching fair and high
O’er lids so pure they scarcely screened the eye.
A form symmetral, moving forth in grace
Like heaven-made Eve, the mother of our race;
And on her brow benevolence and truth
Were chastely throned in meek perennial youth;
While every thought that had creation there
But made her face still more divinely fair;
And every fancy of her soul expressed
On that fair margin what inspired her breast,
Pure as the sunbeams gild the placid deep
Where zephyrs close their wings in listless sleep.
This maiden won my heart. Oh, it is vain
To say, perhaps hers was returned again?
To say, she read the language of my eyes.
And knew my thoughts, unmingled with disguise?
Is it too much to say that eyes reveal
What words in vain but struggle to conceal-
That silent love is not far more sincere
Than vaunting vows, those harbingers of fear?
Deep-rooted veneration breathes no sound.
Back, mortal, back, ye stand on holy ground!
Hid in the heart’s recess, like precious ore.
It lies in brilliant beauty at the core.
Or as the moon, sweet empress of the night,
Reflecting, gives, in modest mellowy light,
The sun’s refracting rays, her destined part.
So genuine feeling steals from heart to heart.
Laugh not, ye sordid sons, ye beings cold.
Who measure all your greatness by your gold,
Whose marble bosoms never once could feel
What friendship, love, and sympathy reveal.
Learn but one truth- ’twill not reduce your stores-
Love higher than your gilded riches soars;
Your demi-god a meaner thing must be
Than Cupid proves. No man e’er loved like me!
Think not a glance too transient to destroy
The calmness of the mind with mingled joy.
Judge for yourselves, but make no strictures here;
Set no mean limits to its hope and fear.
Many could tell, if they but had the art.
The stirring power with which it throbs the heart.
Thrills every nerve, pursues through every vein
Its path electric till it fires the brain,
And trembling there like needle to the pole.
Strange blushes rise in crimson from the soul –
The heaving breast, in respiration free.
Convulsive feels with innate ecstacy.
(Andrew Park)
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Based on Topics: Love Poems, Man Poems, Life Poems, Night Poems, Light Poems, Mind Poems, Soul Poems, Joy & Excitement Poems, Youth Poems, Fairness Poems, Dreams PoemsBased on Keywords: unmingled, chastely, pencilled, enthral, benevolence, ever-varying, veneration, deep-rooted, demi-god, refracting, strictures