Stanzas

I know that thou art far away, Yet in my own despite My still expectant glances stray Inquiring for thy sight. Though all too sure that thy sweet face Can bless no glance of mine, At every turn, in every place, My eyes are seeking thine.

I hope—how vain the hope, I know— That some propitious chance May bring thee here again to throw Thy sweetness on my glance. But, loveliest one, where'er thou art, Whate'er be my despair, Mine eyes will seek thee, and my heart Will love thee every where.