1872.
There was a time, Love, when I strove to tell
Our love but newly won: and tried to sing
In broken verse that scarcely found a wing
Some praise of all the beauty that doth dwell
Beneath long lashes: But then came the spell
Of love possessed, and I no more dared bring,—
Thy hand in mine,—the old verse offering
Lest any spoken word should sound ‘farewell.’