Oh, Enos, I
WISH you were a poet! But you FEEL poetry, I know you do.
I have seen it in your eyes, when I quoted the burning lines of
Adeliza Kelley, or the soul-breathings of Gamaliel J. Gawthrop.
In HIM, particularly, I find the voice of my own nature.
Do you know his `Night-Whispers?' How it embodies the feelings of
such a scene as this!
"Star-drooping bowers bending down the spaces,
And moonlit glories sweep star-footed on;
And pale, sweet rivers, in their shining races,
Are ever gliding through the moonlit places,
With silver ripples on their tranced faces,
And forests clasp their dusky hands, with low and sullen moan!'
"`Ah!' she continued, as I made no reply, `this is an hour for the
soul to unveil its most secret chambers! Do you not think, Enos,
that love rises superior to all conventionalities? that those whose
souls are in unison should be allowed to reveal themselves to each
other, regardless of the world's opinions?'
"`Yes!' said I, earnestly.
"`Enos, do you understand me?' she asked, in a tender voice--almost
a whisper.
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