And O thy destiny was love,
Written in those soft eyes;
A creature to be met with smiles,
And to be watch'd with sighs;
A sweet and fragile blossom, made
To be within the bosom laid.
And there are some beneath whose touch
The coldest hearts expand,
As erst the rocks gave forth their tears
Beneath the prophet's hand;
And colder than that rock must be
The heart that melted not for thee.
Thy voice—thy poet-lover's song
Has not a softer tone;
Thy dark eyes—only stars at night
Such holy light have known;
And thy smile is thy heart's sweet sign,
So gentle and so feminine.
I feel, in gazing on thy face
As I had known thee long;
Thy looks are like notes that recall
Some old remembered song.
By all that touches and endears,
Lady, I must have loved thee years.
For Teutha;L. E. L.
