THRICE welcome, gentle star
Companion of the cheerless, evermore
Like pearly bark on blue waves floating far
Last from some lovely shore.
The poet loveth thee,
And wins from thee those thoughts so pure and high
That gem the rosy heaven of poesy,
As thou dost gem the sky.
And woman holds thee dear;
By trysting tree--in cot, or lordly hall,
She knows thou weav'st some spell, at day-light's fall,
To bring the loved one near.
The faithful deem thee fair;
And when thy white rays down the dusk air fall,
On each pure beam ascends a silent prayer
To HIM who loveth all.
Yet art thou all my own;
And, when the gray and crimson kindly blend,
I watch beside the casement, quite alone,
The coming of my friend.
Through this small window-pane
Such tender glances thou dost give to me,
As beamed in eyes I ne'er shall see again;
They look from heaven, like thee.
And so I sit and dream:
Thine image blends with hers, my long-lost bride,
Till thou no more art distant: nay, dost seem
An angel at my side.
And thus thou art to each:
There is no coldness in thy trembling kiss;
Thou com'st with silent love, more sweet than speech,
To sorrow, and to bliss.
Beautiful Mystery!
My grateful spirit draweth near to ONE
Who placed thee smiling in the darkling sky
A visible benison.
I see how perfectly
Within each soul, the sacred sun may shine;
I know the great Heart of Eternity
Feels each faint throb of mine.