TO A CLOISTRESS

Thou who hast fled from life's enchanted bowers
In youth's gay spring, in beauty's glowing morn
Leaving thy bright array, thy 'path of flowers,
For the rude convent-garb and couch of thorn;

Thou that escaping from a world of cares,
Hast found thy haven in devotion's fane,
As to the port the fearful bark repairs,
To shun the midnight perils of the main;

Now the glad hymn, the strain of rapture pour
While on thy soul the beams of glory rise!
For if the pilot hail the welcome shore

With shouts of triumph swelling to the skies,
Oh, how should'st thou the exulting paean raise
Now heaven's bright harbor opens to thy gaze!