Kindred Hearts

Kindred Hearts

Oh! ask not, hope thou not too much

Of sympathy below;

Few are the hearts whence one same touch

Bids the sweet fountain flow;

Few - and by still conflicting powers

Forbidden here to meet:-

Such lies would make this life of ours

Too fair for aught so fleet.

It may be that thy brother's eye

Sons not as thine, which turns

In such deep reverence to the sky,

Where the rich sunset burns:

It may be that the breath of spring,

Born amidst violets lone,

A rapture o'er thy soul can bring,

A dream, to his unknown.

The tune that speaks of other times -

A sorrowful delight!

The melody of distant climes,

The sound of waves by night;

The wind that, with so many a tone,

Some chord within can thrill, -

These may have language all thine own,

To him a mystery still.

Yet scorn thou not for this, the true

And stedfast love of years;

The kindly, that from childhood grew,

The faithful to thy tears!

If there be one that o'er the dead

Hath in thy grief borne part,

And watched through sickness by thy bed, -

Call his a kindred heart.

But for those bonds all perfect made,

Wherein bright spirits blend,

Like sister flowers of one sweet shade,

With the same breeze that blend,

For that full bliss of thought allied,

Never to mortals given -

Oh! lay thy lovely dreams aside,

Or list them unto heaven.

Unattributed

1:16, p. 64

1827.06.29