First Love Remembered

Peace in her chamber, wheresoe’er It be, a holy place: The thought still brings my soul such grace As morning meadows wear.

Whether it still be small and light, A maid’s who dreams alone, As from her orchard-gate the moon Its ceiling showed at night:

Or whether, in a shadow dense As nuptial hymns invoke, Innocent maidenhood awoke To married innocence:

Then still the thanks unheard await The unconscious gift bequeathed; For there my soul this hour has breathed An air inviolate.