To F----

[F---- is, presumably, Mrs. Frances Sargent Osgood]

Beloved! amid the earnest woes
  That crowd around my earthly path--
(Drear path, alas! where grows
Not even one lonely rose)--
  My soul at least a solace hath
In dreams of thee, and therein knows
An Eden of bland repose.

And thus thy memory is to me
  Like some enchanted far-off isle
In some tumultuous sea--
Some ocean throbbing far and free
  With storms--but where meanwhile
Serenest skies continually
  Just o'er that one bright island smile.

Curated by First Verse from the public domain