To F__

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.