A Fragment

Oft, oft methinks, the while with thee, 
   I breathe, as from the heart, thy dear 
   And dedicated name, I hear 
A promise and a mystery, 
   A pledge of more than passing life, 
   Yea, in that very name of Wife! 

A pulse of love, that ne'er can sleep! 
   A feeling that upbraids the heart 
   With happiness beyond desert, 
That gladness half requests to weep! 
   Nor bless I not the keener sense 
   And unalarming turbulence 

Of transient joys, that ask no sting 
   From jealous fears, or coy denying; 
   But born beneath Love's brooding wing, 
And into tenderness soon dying, 
   Wheel out their giddy moment, then 
   Resign the soul to love again;--- 

A more precipitated vein 
   Of notes, that eddy in the flow 
   Of smoothest song, they come, they go, 
And leave their sweeter understrain, 
   Its own sweet self---a love of Thee 
   That seems, yet cannot greater be!