Chapter I: To My Brother George

Many the wonders I this day have seen: The sun, when first he kist away the tears That fill'd the eyes of morn;--the laurel'd peers Who from the feathery gold of evening lean:-- The ocean with its vastness, its blue green, Its ships, its rocks, its caves, its hopes, its fears,-- Its voice mysterious, which whoso hears Must think on what will be, and what has been. E'en now, dear George, while this for you I write, Cynthia is from her silken curtains peeping So scantly, that it seems her bridal night, And she her half-discover'd revels keeping. But what, without the social thought of thee, Would be the wonders of the sky and sea?