LOVE WITHOUT HOPE.
I cannot cease to love thee,
Coldest fair!
Though pleading cannot move thee,
And I despair.
Thy beauty was diviner,
Than the summer moon,
And thou didst outshine her,
At her noon.
Thy brow was like the silver
On the star-lit sea;
Thy bright eyes did bewilder
All, as me.
Thy motions were the motions
Of a charmed bird,
As, poised o'er dream-world oceans,
His sweet voice is heard.
Thou wast queenlier far
Than the queenliest flower,
More glorious than a star
In a fairy bower.
But it can not move thee,
My mad prayer!
Though I must ever love thee,
Coldest fair!