"To Lizzie" by John Rollin Ridge
From those who blest me with their love,
With boundless plains beneath my feet,
And foreign skies my head above;
I look around me sternly here,
And smother feelings strong and deep,
While o'aer my brow are gathering dark
The thoughts that from my spirit leap.
I think of her whose bosom sweet,
Has pillowed oft my sleeping head,
Whose eye would brighten at my voice,
Whose ear was quick to know my tread.
I think of her, the fondly loved,
Whose blood and soul have mixed with mine,
Till life had nothing more to give,
Yet asked of Heaven no boon divine.
Of her whose fitful fate I held,
As Heaven doth hold a trembling star,
Whose smiles were mine, whose tears were mine,
And hopes and joys to " make or mar.''
Oh lovely one, that pines for me!
How well she soothed each maddened thought,
And from the ruins of my soul
A fair and beauteous fabric wrought!
Whose base was strong, unshaken faith—
The boon to mightier spirits given—
Whose towering dome was human love,
That rose from earth and lived in Heaven!
Ah, best beloved that weeps for me!
How oft beneath my spirit's wing
I’ve borne through the worlds of thought,
And showed her there each holy thing;
Have caught the fire of themes sublime,
And wrapt her in their glorious light,
Till in her loftiness of mind,
She stood an angel in my sight!
How beautiful the hours with her,
How full of deep, o'erpowering bliss,
When bosoms that so loved were joined,
And lips that thirsted for the kiss!
Unmindful then of aught but joy,
'Twas death to gaze and not to meet;
All! all the same if fortune smiled,
Or ruin yawned beneath our feet!
Ah beautiful! thrice beautiful!
And passion bound me in thrall–
In manhood's might before shrine
I knelt me down and yielded all.
Then let it go. If have sinned,
'Twas that my heart knew no control,
When she that called to her arms
When she that called me to her arms
Was first, was all that stirred my soul.
* Written on the Plains.