Alver. It ever hath been first in my heart's love;
But I have learned of thee a deeper love,
A higher, holier, and more sacred flame
Than burns upon the altar of ambition.
Azlea! thou art a wondrous being—
And I know not whether I dare to love thee;
But it is virtue to acknowledge this—
That thou hast held an influence o'er my spirit,
Which it will take a lifetime to forget.
Thy care, thy gentleness, thy voice of song,
And more than all, thy childlike innocence
Of every impure sentiment or thought,
Hath won the deep devotion of a heart
That yet scarce dares to tell thee of its love;
Nor would I venture to so bold a thought,
As that I have inspired within thy breast
A single feeling tenderer than thou
Wouldst have bestowed on any hapless stranger
A pitying Heaven threw under thy sweet care.
To-morrow's sun will shine on my farewell
To my dear, temporary home and thee;
And I have naught to offer thee, in lieu
Of what would be to some, more just reward
Save warmest gratitude, and warmest love.
And thou wilt not reject it?
Azlea. There can not be reward more canceling
To every debt of kindness, than is this
You offer—earnest gratitude; but love
Is for a higher purpose. I can not
Accept for guerdon, what the deathless spirit
Hath for its immortal dower. You mistake;
And are yet ignorant of real love.
Alver. Since you have spoken thus, I am compelled
To vindicate my sentiments by words
Stronger than I had purposed. If to say
