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JOURNAL

MINISTER OF THE SECOND

CHURCH OF BOSTON

JOURNAL XX

1829

(From "XVIII," zd, "Sermons and Journal," Cabot's S, U and Y)

(From Cabot's S)

TO ELLEN

ALL that thy virgin soul can ask be thine,
Beautiful Ellen, let this prayer be mine.

The first devotion that my soul has paid
To mortal grace it pays to thee, fair maid.
I am enamoured of thy loveliness,

Lovesick with thy sweet beauty, which shall bless
With its glad light my path of life around,
Which now is joyless where thou art not found.
Now am I stricken with the sympathy
That binds the whole world in electric tie ;
I hail love's birth within my hermit breast,
And welcome the bright ordinance to be blest.
I was a hermit whom the lone Muse cheers,
I sped apart my solitary years,

I found no joy in woman's meaning eye
When Fashion's merry mob were dancing by;
Yet had I read the law all laws above,

Great Nature hath ordained the heart to love;

Yet had I heard that in this mortal state
To every mind exists its natural mate;
That God at first did marry soul to soul,
Though lands divide and seas between them roll.
Then eagerly I searched each circle round,
I panted for my mate, but no mate found.
I saw bright eyes, fair forms, complexions fine,
But not a single soul that spoke to mine.
At last the star broke through the hiding cloud,
At last I found thee in the silken crowd;
I found thee, Ellen, born to love and shine,
And I who found am blessed to call thee mine.

TO MISS EMERSON

(From "XVIII," 2d)

January 6, 1829.

MY DEAR Aunt, You know

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know better on what straitened lines we have all walked up to manhood. In poverty and many troubles the seeds of our prosperity were

sown.

Now all these troubles appeared a fair counterbalance to the flatteries of fortune. I lean always to that ancient superstition (if it is such, though drawn from a wise survey of human affairs) which taught men to beware of unmixed

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