Even as a bridegroom, lured
By the unravished secret of her eye,
Reads the bride’s soul, yet never all can know.
And when from her embrace again thou’rt torn,
(Though well for her the world were thrown away!)
At thine old tasks thou’lt not be quite forlorn,
Remembering where is peace; and thou shalt say,
“I know where beauty has not felt the curse,—
Where, though I age, all round me is so young
That in its youth my soul’s youth mirrored seems;