Metrical essays :: :: University of Virginia Library

Not love thee! from that blessed night,
That first sweet hour, our young eyes met;
Thou wert my heart's acknowledged light,
With which its hope should rise or set:
The world in her domain holds nought,
Which could requite thy loss to me;
Whole years have been one long—long thought—
One deep expressive dream of thee:
No! never hast thou been forgot:—
And say'st thou that I love thee not!

II

I never drew a radiant scene
But thou mad'st all its happiness,
And dark and cold my life had been
Had'st thou not promised it to bless;
Thine image from the first hath dwelt
Within my breast as in a shrine,
Before which my young heart hath knelt
With faith that never knew decline:
Thou art the light of my drear lot:—
And say'st thou that I love thee not!