Above my head the cool green myrtles twining,
Shelter the rose while blushing into bloom;
There the pale jasmine like a star is shining,
But faint, as languid with its own perfume.
I love them not—I dwell among them lonely;
By other influence my soul is stirred:
My heart hath only room for him—him only,
For whose sake thou art loved, my gentle bird.
Too much I love him; 'tis a fatal error
To live but in another's life, and be
For ever vexed by one perpetual terror,
Lest when apart his thoughts are not with me.
I tremble with my passionate emotion,
If any careless lip but name his name;
I worship him with such entire devotion,
That all to me seem as they felt the same.
Alas! It is so natural to love him;
I am so happy when I meet his eyes;
What have I done that fate should now remove him,
Who takes the sunshine from my native skies?
I think upon him when the stars are keeping
Their weary watch above a world like ours;
If sleep forgets him, I reproach my sleeping;
Ah, only bring his shade, ye dreaming powers!
D
