Maiden! from whose large, intellectual eyes,
My soul first drank love's immortality,
Plume my weak spirit for its chosen skies,
'T would falter in its mission without thee.
Conduct its flight; and if its musings be
Oft'ner of earth than heaven, bear awhile
With what is native to mortality:
It dare not err exulting in thy smile:
Look on it with thine eyes, and keep it free from guile.