I broke the silence of my room with laughter,
To think sleep had revived a thing so dead.

Thank God, that only in the realms of fancy
Can that old sorrow wake again to strife.
No fate is strong enough--no necromancy--
To make it stir one pulse of my calm life.

My heart is light, my lot is blest without you,
Our early sorrows are not what they seem,
Now in my slumber, if I dream about you
I wake to laugh at such an idle dream.



CIRCUMSTANCE



Talk not to me of souls that do conceive
Sublime ideals, but, deterred by Fate
And bound by circumstances, sit desolate,
And long for heights they never can achieve.

It is not so. That which we most desire,
With UNDERSTANDING, we at last obtain,
In part or whole. I hold there is no rain,
No deluge, that can quench a heavenly fire.

Show me thy labour, I straightway will name