By Heav'n, and all its Gods I swear,
Or if a greater Oath there be,
There's not a God inhabits there
But what would Barter all his Heav'n for thee.
Ev'n Jove himself, their Father and their King,
Would leave his Grandeur and his Throne
And turn a Bird, a Beast, or any thing;
Might he possess but thee alone.

I swear there is no greater Happiness,
Or if there be, I can no greater guess,
Then 'tis to sit and gaze
On the rare Beauties of thy face:
Ev'n Heav'n it self would that fair Prospect prize
And look for ever with unwearied view,
And tho it look'd with all its Eyes
'Twould still confess 'em all too few.

They say, 'tis all the Heav'n the Blessed know
To view the Mirror of the Deity;
I'm sure 'tis all my Heav'n below
To look on thee,
That's here the Beatifick Sight to me,
And 'tis my Hell when I thy Presence must forgo.

To read my Destinies,
I'll not consult the Planets of the Skies,
But those more radiant Stars thine Eyes;
If these appear benign,
Let other Stars with any Aspect shine;
So we are in Conjunction,
I fear not theirs, nor what it can portend,
My Fates on that, not this depend,
They all depend on that alone.

Before me now a little picture lies—
A little shadow of a childish face,
Childishly sweet, yet with the dawning grace
Of thought and wisdom on her lips and eyes.

Fair, oval, broad-brow'd face—small, delicate head—
Transparent skin, with blue veins shining through—
All the soft outlines, beautiful and true,
Bring me the echo of the words God said.

Made in our image—sure 'tis that we see,
God's likeness, in the fair face of a child,
By the world's sin and passion undefiled—
Ay, as I look, it seems quite plain to me.

The light wherein the little features shine,
Strange, mystic light, so undefined and faint,
So far too pure for any words to paint—
'Tis a reflection of the Face divine.

Some day the earthly shadows will be cast
Across that sunshine—it may be to dim
Awhile the visible countenance of Him;
But 'twill be there—the likeness—to the last.

Some day the lucid waters, in which lie
Pictured those glorious lineaments, will be
Stirred up and troubled like a stormy sea;—
But they will yet re-settle—by-and-by.

They will re-settle when the soul is still'd,
Its passions, its wild longings, and its pain;
The pure reflection will shine out again
When earth's hopes are relinquish'd, unfulfill'd.

They will re-settle in those after-years
When life's hard lessons have been conned and learn'd;
When this child's beauty will have all return'd,
More lovely for the trouble and the tears.

They will re-settle in the calm of death,
When the sweet eyes are laid asleep, and when
The heart is hush'd. Truly God's likeness then—
The mirror clear, unsullied by a breath.

Ah! while I look, and trace each tender line,
I think most of the day when I shall see
The dear face in that perfect purity,
Its mortal features clothed with the divine.

This self-same face, but with the image bright,
Nevermore undefined, and faint, and dim;
This self-same face, yet like the face of Him,
In glory and in beauty infinite.