My heart has been thy captive. O, my Queen,
Life was before me like a mystery
Filled with innumerable tongues of fear;
But at thy touch I saw the world and life
Green with the promise of delightful days,
And like a harp of many twisted strings
My heart was, on which your white hand did play—
Or was it but the wind?—a melody
Awakening strange hopes and strong desires
And that old dream of beauty, triumphing