The heart—the gifted heart—
Who may reveal its depths to human sight!
What eloquence impart
The softness of its love—the grandeur of its might!
It is the seat of bliss—
The blessed home of all affections sweet;
It smiles where friendship is—
It glows where social feelings meet.
‘Tis Virtue’s hallowed fame—
‘Tis Freedom’s first, and best, and noblest shield!
As strength that will remain,
When grosser powers and feeble spirits yield!
It is Religion’s shrine,
From wherever our holiest aspirations wing;
Where joys, which are divine,
And hopes, which are of heaven, alone may spring!
The fount of tenderness—
Where every pure passion has its birth,
To cheer—to charm to bless—
And sanctifies our pilgrimage on earth.
Emily B. Willson
Page 33: Selected from Charles Swain’s poem “The Heart.” This poem appeared in The Museum of Foreign Literature and Science 20 (Philadelphia: Eliakim Littell, 1832), 23 It also appeared unattributedin The Monthly Repository and Library of Entertaining Knowledge (New York: Francis F. Wiggins, 1833), 126.