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Beauty

Rating: 2.6

I gazed upon thy face--and beating life,
Once stilled its sleepless pulses in my breast
And every thought whose being was a strife
Each in its silent chamber sank to rest;
I was not, save it were a thought of thee,
The world was but a spot where thou hadst trod,
From every star thy glance seemed fix on me,
Almost I loved thee better than my God.
And still I gaze--but ‘tis a holier thought
Than that in which my spirit lived before,

Each star a purer ray of love has caught,
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