Sarah Helen Whitman

Vainly my heart had with thy sorceries striven: It had no refuge from thy love,—no Heaven But in thy fatal presence;—from afar It owned thy power and trembled like a star O’erfraught with light and splendor. Could I deem How dark a shadow should obscure its beam?— Could I believe that pain could ever dwell Where thy bright presence cast its blissful spell? Thou wert my proud palladium;—could I fear The avenging Destinies when thou wert near?— Thou wert my Destiny;—thy song, thy fame, The wild enchantments clustering round thy name, Were my soul’s heritage, its royal dower; Its glory and its kingdom and its power!