I loved—must love him—that ’twas vain
To reason or to chide—
That life, unless it gave me him,
Could nothing give beside.
Ah! never till it loves, the heart
Is conscious of its powers;
What knows the undeveloped spring
Of summer’s golden hours?
I saw him—and my inmost soul
Its stamp, his image, took;
The passion of a lifetime sprang
Upon a single look.
A sudden and a strange delight
Seemed eager at my heart,
A childlike pleasure, which to all
Its gladness must impart.
I found a thousand charms in life
Till then life never wore!
I marvelled, in my deep content,
I had been sad before.
I never knew what music was
Until his voice I heard;
And never beat my heart so fast
As at his lightest word.
I would have rather been his slave
Than reigned alone his queen;
He was my life—and wanting him
What would the world have been?
He shared the dream, or seemed to share—
Days, weeks, and months passed by.
Never more perfect happiness
Was seen beneath the sky.
We parted—not in doubt or fear—
I wondered he could part;
And the first sense of misery
Awakened in my heart.
8
