Oh, is there no name for a feeling like this--
   No word for emotion like mine?
Cannot the most delicate fancy that is,
   The depths of affection define?

It cannot be friendship--no, that is too cold--
  And love is so often of earth,
And kindles the quickest on shrines made of gold--
  But this is of heavenly birth.

 Not passion--oh, no! Like the sun at high noon,
  Which scorches whereíer he may shine,
It burns while it lasts--but it darkens as soon.
  And none of these feelings are mine.

No, this is affection as pure as a dove,
  As sweet as to earth ever came--
Far stronger than friendship--more tender than love--
  Where shall I find it a name?  

It brings to my bosom a feeling of rest--
  It lightens my burden of care--
It soothes every trouble which saddens my breast,
  And nestles so peacefully there!

And if, 'mid the phrases our mortal tongues frame,
  No word for such feeling is given,
Weíll whisper the angels to lend us a name
  And speak in the language of Heaven!

This poem appeared in Girls of Today, Volume I.