by W.
Originally published in The Metropolitan (James Cochrane) vol.1 #3 (Jul 1831).
When kindred sensibilities gaze o'er
The speaking features of each other's face,
Till they can trust expression's bound no more,
But turn away—methinks 'tis sweet to trace
The inward feeling struggling to efface
What's writ on tearful eye and redden'd cheek;—
Blush after blush to paleness giving place—
And then the broken deep-drawn sighs that speak
The pleasure-sadness that's within—such meek
Warm vermeil flushings of thy heaven-lit soul
I've gazed upon till I have gazed too much,
And rashly loosed my heart from its control!—
Vain though it be, my magic love is such,
Twill only yield to death's dissolving touch!