Moments of delightful madness
Gone, alas, for evermore!
TOO LATE.
(PEINE D'AMOUR.)
(AFTER ARMAND SILVESTRE.)
When your hand was laid upon mine
'Twas in painful dread that I grasped it,
For some hesitation malign,
Made tremble the fingers that clasped it.
When you turned your forehead so near,