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And thou wouldst be for aye adored,
So beauteous, with no peer,
Like fairies from the times of yore,
That in our dreams appear.
I loved thee with a heathen’s eyes,
With painful passion hot,
That from my father’s fathers came
To be my earthly lot.
But seldom do I pass to-day,
Mine eyes no longer burn,
Nor do I care if sadly thou
For me thy head dost turn.
For in thy gesture, gait, to-day
Thou art like all, and I
Indifferently look at thee
With dead man’s sightless eye.
O if thy soul had then been filled
With sacred ecstasy,
Thou wouldst have lit on earth love’s lamp
To burn eternally.
