University of Virginia Library

I.

All down the linden-alley's morning shade
Thy form with childly rapture I pursue;
No hazel-bowered brook can seek the glade
With steps more joyous and with course more true.
But when all haste and hope I reach my goal,
And Thou at once thy full and earnest eyes
Turnest upon me, my encumbered soul
Bows down in shame and trembles with surprise.
I rise exalted on thy moving grace,
Peace and good-will in all thy voice I hear;
Yet if the sudden wonders of thy face
Fall on me, joy is weak and turns to fear.