Blithe hath been mine youth of
eighteen years!
Bound not by labor,
nor fleshly cares of significance,
and rife affairs.
And unrestrained liberty for
common pleasures,
or delight in surface leisure-
Thoughtless frolicking at mine will!
Yet, the contentment sought
thence, unfound;
rather, a seeping sense of a
certain loss,
And pricks of a certain
long, dormant desire,
Deluge upon me hence.
So oft the mind chances upon, in indefinite pattern temperaments,
and, like an unannounced kin; a
welcoming guest-
fits of crave yearning for
desperate escape:
Vain hopes for a soulful rest.
Oft I sate, and relished
that portrait of dazzling enchantment,
its golden hue that imbues
Its rhythmic subject;
Oft I hear, in the tranquil
isolation of my conscious being,
And savored the cadence
Of the beauteous sea!
Ah! Such art the sweet solace
to mine troubled state,
the mirthful tune to a plaintive strain.
