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TO * * * * * *
Those radiant eyes of brightest glow,
Those flowing locks, with gold-light vieing;
Those blooms, like flowers 'mid winter's snow.
Have long to me been cause of sighing.
Long felt I, maid, the pains that come
From loving with a love unspoken;
As streams more deep will aye become
Till bounds impeding them are broken.
In vain each devious art I try
From thoughts of thee to gain diversion;
In vain I wander, vain I fly,
My steadfast heart rejects desertion.
For everywhere that form still seems
'Mid brightest scenes a sadness making;
For ever present in my dreams—
For ever present in my waking.
