Poems and Essays

by Joseph Howe




Nay, chide me not, although I take,
    With trembling lip, one holy kiss,
For naught on Earth can e’er awake
    A throb of joy so pure as this.

One instant on those lips to dwell,
    Which none before have dared to press;
One instant feel that bosom swell
    Responsive to my fond caress;—

While in your mild, expressive eye,
    And on that beauteous brow of thine,
And on that cheek, where roses lie,
    I read, your trusting heart is mine.

Oh! lovely are the mellow beams
    Of Summer’s Sun at evening straying,
And soothingly the Moonlight gleams
    When o’er the sleeping Wave ’tis playing;—

And beauteous are the Forest flowers
    When fresh from Flora’s hand they spring,
And, dear are childhood’s early hours
    Round which the memory loves to cling. [Page 105]

Yes, these have charms, yet purer still
    To youthful hearts a joy is given,
Which touches with a deeper thrill,
    Which, snatched on Earth, still tastes of Heaven.

Then chide me not, altho’ I take
    With trembling lip one holy kiss
For naught on Earth can e’er awake
    A throb of joy so sure as this.
1827. [Page 106]